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LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 



THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS 
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



Agpttta 
THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 

LONDON AND EDINBURGH 

THE MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA 

TOKYO, OSAKA, KYOTO 

KARL W. HIERSEMANN 

LEIPZIG 

THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY 

NEW YORK 




LONDON BRIIMIK 

(From Hollar's \'ie\v, 1647) 



LONDON IN ENGLISH 
LITERATURE 



By 
PERCY H. BOYNTON 




THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS 
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



^; 



1* 



Copyright 191 3 By 
The University of Chicago 



All Rights Reserved 



Published July 1913 



Composed and Printed By 

The University of Chicago Press 

Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A. 



PREFACE 

English literature embraces, as no one realizes 
better than I, a vast and complicated body of 
material. To make a part of this in some degree 
more intelligible is the purpose of the present 
volume. It is not addressed primarily to scholars. 
It has been written for students and readers who 
enjoy literature the better as they more clearly 
understand its original setting. Nothing is in- 
cluded in the volume which cannot be easily 
traced by reference to standard works on London 
and obvious sources in literature. It happens, 
however, that, in all the array of studies about the 
great city, none has been produced with the pur- 
poses of the present book : to give an idea of Lon- 
don atmosphere in the various literary periods, to 
expound the chief places of interest for successive 
generations, and to make a reasonably generous 
selection from old and new engravings and photo- 
graphs. Those who care to follow up any of my 
findings may be aided by the footnotes, the lists of 
illustrative readings appended to the chapters, the 
appendix on illustrative novels, and the index, in 
which account is taken of these data as well as of 
the text. To one who pursues any of the devious 



vi PREFACE 

paths blazed by these cumbrous tools, pleasant 
vistas will open out which lead far from the main 
highroad. And perhaps some student, thus be- 
guiled, will one day complete on an ample scale 
a book for which the present volume hardly more 
than suggests a working method. 

P. H. B. 

Chicago 
February, 1913 



ILLUSTRATIVE READINGS 

GENERAL REFERENCES 

Besant, Walter, London (Chatto & Windus). A single 
volume containing a brief survey of what is included 
in his many other volumes. 

Hutchings, W. W., London Town, Past and Present. 
2 vols., 4to. An interesting work, chiefly valuable 
for its hundreds of excellent illustrations. 

Hutton, Lawrence, Literary Landmarks of London 
(Harper's). A compact handbook treating of authors 
in alphabetic order. Well indexed. 

London Topographical Society, Annual Publications of. 

Wheatley, H. B., and Cunningham, Peter, London Past 
and Present (John Murray). 3 vols. An indispen- 
sable cyclopaedia. 

ANTHOLOGIES 

Adams, Arthur H., London Streets (T. N. Foulis). 
Hyatt, Alfred H., ed., The Charm of London (Chatto & 

Windus). 
Melville, Helen and Lewis, London's Lure (Bell). 
Whitten, Wilfred, ed., London in Song (Grant Richards). 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Chaucer's London i 

II. Shakespeare's London 34 

III. Milton's London 65 

IV. Dryden's London 93 

V. Addison's London 124 

VI. Johnson's London 153 

VII. The London of Lamb and Byron . . . 192 

VIII. Dickens' London 219 

IX. Victorian London 249 

X. Contemporary London 271 

Appendix: Illustrative Novels 301 

Index 331 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

London Bridge Frontispiece 

Eight Old Gates Sacrificed to Make Way 

for Traffic opp. p. 5 

Old St. Paul's " 8 

Two Bits of Domestic Architecture 

(Front of Sir Paul Pindar's House; 

Old Fountain Inn in the Minories). . " 16 v 

London in 1572 (Map) betw. pp. 32 and 33 '■ 

The Globe Theater opp. p. 40 

St. Paul's Cross as It Was in 1620 " 49 

Procession of Edward VI from the Tower 

to Westminster, February 19, 1546-47 

betw. pp. 56 and 57 *s 
Entrance of (French) Queen Mother to 

London in 1638 — Passing through 

Cheapside betw. pp. 64 and 65 

Execution of the Earl of Strafford; 

Tower of London opp. p. 74 l 

Execution of Charles I; Banquet House, 

Whitehall " 78 

The Effect of the Great Fire of 1666 

(Map) " 88 

In Westminster Hall " 96 

Two Churches by Wren (St. Bride's, Fleet 

Street, and St. Mary le Bow) " 120 

Coffee House Interiors ("Coffee House 

Babble" on the Sacheverell Case, 

1 7 10; Company at a Coffee House) .. . " 136 

xi 



xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

"An Emblematical Print on the South 

Sea Bubble" opp. p. 144 

London in the Middle of the Eighteenth 

Century (Map) betw. pp. 152 and 153 

Adelphi Terrace, and Staple Inn, Hol- 

born opp. p. 156 

Two Famous Eighteenth-Century Gardens 

(Vauxhall and Ranelagh) " 168 

"Idle Prentice Executed at Tyburn". . . " 184 

Dr. Johnson's House in the Temple " 188 

Holland House — South Front " 197 

Fleet Street and Temple Bar as Lamb 

Knew Them in Boyhood " 202 

Supper at Christ's Hospital " 208 

The India House in Charles Lamb's Day. . " 213 
Two Scenes prom "Life in London" 

(Regent Street; Mild Diversions for 

Tom and Jerry) " 221 

Old Houses of Parliament Burned in 1834 " 224 

A View of the Little Sanctuary " 228 

Two Views of Regent Street " 233 

Charterhouse Without and Within " 245 

Blackfriars Bridge and the River Front 

before the victoria embankment. ... " 249 

Trafalgar Square " 253 

New Houses of Parliament " 258 

Where Rossetti Lived — Cheyne Walk. . . " 265 

A Bit of Old London Wall " 272 

Westminster Hall " 276 

Evelyn's Plan for Rebuilding the City, . , 283 



CHAPTER I 
CHAUCER'S LONDON 

The history of such a city as London is invari- 
ably connected with the literature produced in it. 
Yet allusions with which literature is filled are not 
always clear to the average and to the casual 
reader, for the background against which poetry, 
drama, essays, and fiction have been written is a 
continually shifting one. 

The chapters to follow are successively con- 
nected, for instance, with Chaucer's fourteenth 
century, with the sixteenth and seventeenth 
centuries as Shakespeare crossed the border line 
between them, with The Commonwealth and The 
Restoration as seen in Milton and Dryden, with 
two periods in the eighteenth century as witnessed 
by Addison and Goldsmith, with three in the 
nineteenth as seen by Lamb, Dickens, and George 
Eliot, and with the contemporary London of the 
twentieth century. 

Here is a succession of periods each of which 
discovers London in a different spiritual stage, 
the whole tracing the community from the days 
of mediaevalism through the Renaissance, the 



2 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

vigorous reaction of Puritanism, the early ra- 
tionalism of the eighteenth century, the rise of 
a new spirit of freedom and democracy, and the 
successive and vital changes of the last hundred 
years; and here, too, is a little procession of 
men every one of whom sees these changing 
phenomena not only from the point of view of 
his own generation but with the prejudices which 
belong to his own individual nature. Each chap- 
ter, therefore, involves a partial point of view 
and a transitory, evanescent London. 

Yet the successive excursions are not quite 
aimless, for each one of them is directed to a 
series of visible places and buildings which are 
associated with picturesque episodes from the 
past. Moreover, although the same ground is 
frequently retraced, all have to do with an enlar- 
ging metropolis. Thus, the mediaeval walled town 
of Chaucer's day is succeeded in interest by the 
larger town of Shakespeare's, with its outlying 
theaters and its interesting highway to West- 
minster. Thus, the coffee-houses of Addison's 
time, the great business establishments of Lamb's, 
and the law courts and houses of Parliament of 
Dickens' day are all features of a growing city 
which in the end has become the vast and compli- 
cated London of the present, over a hundred times 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 3 

the area of the original little town with which 
we are to begin. 

It was located in the most unpromising of sites: 

Imagine a Mediterranean trireme here — the very end 
of the world, a sea the colour of lead, a sky the colour of 
smoke, a kind of ship as rigid as a concertina — and going 
up this river with stores, or orders, or what you like. Sand- 
banks, marshes, forests, savages — precious little to eat 
fit for a civilized man, nothing but Thames water to drink. 
No Falernian wine here, no going ashore. Here and there 
a military camp lost in a wilderness, like a needle in a 
bundle of hay — cold, fog, tempests, disease, exile, and 
death — death skulking in the air, in the water, in the 

bush. They must have been dying like flies here 

Or think of a decent young citizen in a toga — perhaps 
too much dice, you know — coming out here in the train 
of some prefect, or tax-gatherer, or trader even, to mend 
his fortunes. Land in a swamp, march through the woods, 
and in some island post feel the savagery, the utter sav- 
agery, that had closed around him — all that mysterious 
life of the wilderness that stirs in the forest, in the jungles, 
in the hearts of wild men. 1 

The London of Chaucer's day was a full- 
fledged city with a long history behind it. For 
more than a thousand years before Chaucer's 
birth, on the spot where London now stands, the 
old city, or rather a succession of cities, had 
stood — an early British community, a Roman 

','Joseph Conrad, Youth: A Narrative, pp. 56, 57. 



4 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

London, a deserted collection of moldering ruins, 
a Saxon London repeatedly occupied by the 
Danes, and a Norman London. From the time 
of the Conquest on, while the unity of the city as 
the metropolis of England was undisturbed, it 
may be said that physically three Londons have 
been erected, the dividing lines being the great 
fires of 1135 and of 1666. Both of these swept 
the heart of the old community and that part of 
the modern one which is technically known as 
"The City." Each was followed by a complete 
rebuilding which left many of the old thorough- 
fares, but completely transformed the look of the 
town. It was the second of these Londons — the 
one existing during the half-millennium between 
the middle of the twelfth and the middle of the 
seventeenth centuries — in which Chaucer lived 
from 1340 to 1400. 

This London was a little, unimposing town of 
which one can get a much better idea today by 
visiting such places as Canterbury or Oxford than 
by spending a casual week in the present enormous 
metropolis on the Thames. Its population was 
probably under 40,000. It extended about a 
mile along the north bank of the river and a half- 
mile back into the country; and even within these 
limits it was not solidly built up. It was com- 





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CHAUCER'S LONDON 5 

pletely surrounded by a wall, which on the land 
sides was supplemented by what had formerly 
been a wide and deep moat. The south portion, 
of course, lay directly on the river front. At the 
eastern end of this was the Tower, a royal and 
imposing castle, nobly preserved in its main 
features at the present time. From here the wall 
circled about to the northwest, punctuated by a 
succession of entrances, Aldgate, Bishopsgate, 
Moorgate, Cripplegate, and Aldersgate. At 
Smithfield (the old cattle market just outside the 
city, half a mile back from the Thames and rather 
more than that distance upstream from the Tower) 
the wall turned south by Newgate and Ludgate, 
past St. Paul's Cathedral to Blackfriars, the great 
Dominican monastery; and thus back to the river. 
The wall itself was a sturdy pile, of which the 
modern traveler can get an adequate notion from 
the fine remains at Chester, or from some of the 
survivors on the Continent, such as, for instance, 
the almost complete one around Nuremburg. 
Only two fragments are still easily to be seen in 
London. 1 The gate towers, massive structures, 
were part dwellings and part prisons. Above 
Aldgate for some years lived no less a personage 
than Chaucer himself. Most famous of all was 

'See chap, x, p. 273, and illustration opposite. 



6 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Newgate, the chief prison, and scene of many a 
notable execution. 

The "best people" had possession, for the most 
part, of the westerly portion of the city, which 
the west winds freed from dust and smoke. Here 
certain streets even in these early days extended 
outside the wall, Fleet Street and the Strand 
reaching to Charing Cross in the midst of the open 
fields. Next, hard on the river, which made a 
sharp bend toward the south, came the town house 
of the archbishops of York (which was later to be 
conveyed to Henry VIII upon the disgrace of 
Wolsey and converted into the royal residence, 
Whitehall); and then Westminster, a separate 
community containing both the Abbey and the 
Parliament buildings. At Westminster boats 
could carry pedestrians across to the suburb, 
Southwark, which, except by water, was to be 
reached only over London Bridge a mile to the 
east. 

As a traveler came up from Canterbury way, 
or, in fact, from anywhere south of the Thames, 
he naturally entered the city by means of this, the 
only bridge; for it was nearly three hundred years 
after Chaucer's day when, in 1760, a second was 
built. The old bridge was a whole generation in 
erection (1 176-1209), but it did duty for five full 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 7 

centuries. Could it have survived to the present 
day, no single spectacle in London would now 
surpass it in interest. It was set on a score of 
stone arches of various lengths, and was inter- 
cepted about a third of the way across by a draw- 
bridge which marked the county line between 
Middlesex and Surrey. Like all mediaeval struc- 
tures of slow growth, it was not irrevocably com- 
mitted to a final plan before the first stone was 
laid, with the result that its history tells of a steady 
succession of changes. In its comparative youth 
of less than two hundred years when Chaucer was 
alive, it seems according to Stow, the antiquarian, 
not to have been "replenished with houses 
builded thereupon, as since it hath beene, and now 
is." Yet from the outset it was graced in mid- 
stream by a chapel dedicated to St. Thomas of 
Canterbury, and for the last half of its life it 
sturdily upheld two almost unbroken lines of 
shops and dwellings, together with the high towers 
at either end on which traitors' heads were 
displayed after execution. London Bridge as a 
name was far from telling the whole story. It 
was also a stronghold, a thoroughfare, and a 
business street; a monument to travel, commerce, 
law, and the church. 

Of all the London sights of the fourteenth 



8 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

century which have since been swept away there 
was only one that rivaled the Bridge. This was 
old St. Paul's Cathedral. Like the city itself, it 
had risen and fallen more than once. The great 
structure which towered over London in the days 
of Henry V— begun in 1087, and about two 
hundred years in building — was completed hardly 
more than half a century before Chaucer's birth. 
It was a superb and enormous creation. The St. 
Paul's of today is the biggest thing in London; 
with the slight advantage of its position on Lud- 
gate Hill it easily dominates the great city in the 
center of which it grimly rears its head; but Old 
St. Paul's was just about a hundred feet longer and 
a hundred feet taller than the present huge pile. 
It was far more beautiful to the eye ; and it could 
be better seen, for it was in a smaller city and a 
city of smaller buildings. We have no good view 
of London which displays the cathedral in the 
years of its greatest glory; but even in the draw- 
ings made after the steeple had burned in 1444 
the great structure brooded over the town like 
Gibraltar at the meeting of the two seas. 

Under the shadow of St. Paul's lay an irregu- 
lar network of narrow streets, all but a dozen of 
them terminating within the city walls. The 
great parade ground, Cheapside, extended for a 




OLD ST. PAUL'S 

(From Hollar's View, 1647) 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 9 

quarter of a mile east of St. Paul's Churchyard. 
Wide enough for the "boast of heraldry, the pomp 
of power," it became the natural thoroughfare 
for all the processions between London Tower 
and Westminster, the swing back from the river 
being taken here on account of the ampler size of 
the street. Along its sides were erected, not only 
scores of modest shops with a plentiful inter- 
sprinkling of taverns either on Cheapside or on 
the cross streets, but also certain very notable 
buildings dedicated to the trade of the city. It 
was wide enough to afford an open market-place 
for the dealers in "bread, cheese, poultry, fruit, 
hides and skins, onions and garlic, and all other 
small victuals," who had no regular shops, and to 
contain, besides, four important structures in the 
middle of the street. At the east and west ends 
were the Great and Little conduits, where the 
people of the entire neighborhood drew their water, 
either in person or through the aid of carriers. 
Near the west end was the Standard of Cheap, a 
fountain before which for centuries public punish- 
ments were meted out. The list of penalties is 
a grim one, running from executions and mutila- 
tions to exposure in the pillory and the public 
burning of dishonest merchandise and seditious 
books. Near the east end was Cheapside Cross, 



io LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the eleventh of the twelve crosses (Charing Cross 
was the last) marking the resting-places of the 
body of Queen Eleanor when it was brought from 
Hardeby to Westminster Abbey in 1290. The 
whole atmosphere of the thoroughfare was spacious 
and ample; but on either side where the homelier 
things were sold, and where the craftsman lived 
and wrought, extended north and south little 
alley-like passages — Friday, Bread, Milk, Wood 
streets, Gutter Lane, and the like. 

They were roughly paved with large stones. 
The one gutter or kennel was in the middle of the 
street, and it was seldom dry. As it served for a 
common drain, the pedestrian was in imminent 
danger of a drenching from the windows above. 
Nor was the refuse wholly liquid. Garbage and 
offal, and all the thousand and one odds and ends 
cast aside by the makers of useful things were 
shuffled into the streets. There were laws against 
abuses of this custom, and also laws that fires 
should from time to time be lighted to purify the 
air made noisome by infractions of the first set of 
rules. In June and July, on the vigils of festival 
days, there were special bonfires; and good need 
of them there must have been in Stinking Lane, 
Scalding Lane, Seething Lane, and Shere Hog. 

In these days there were no factory districts 



CHAUCER'S LONDON n 

segregated at the outskirts of the town. Square 
through the heart of the city men were rattling 
looms, hammering metal and wood, grinding corn, 
brewing beer, and making tallow, soap, and glue. 
All the while the apprentices at the shop doors 
were calling and bawling their masters' wares, and 
over the roofs, but still beneath "the richly con- 
fected cloud of thick and heavy smell," were peal- 
ing the bells from most of the six-score church 
spires. 1 

The shops and humble dwellings — usually com- 
bined — were little houses of wood. So recently 
as the thirteenth century there had been fire- 
legislation prohibiting the use of reeds, rushes, 
stubble, or straw in the roofs. The upper stories, 
projecting somewhat, darkened the narrow streets 
from which none too much light could enter the 
still narrower windows: and in stormy weather 
the gloom was increased by the lack of glazing 
and the need of closing the wooden shutters which 

1 In this connection the interesting nursery rhyme is pertinent: 

''Oranges and lemons" say the bells of St. Clements; 

"You owe me five farthings" say the bells of St. Martin's; 

"When will you pay me?" say the bells of Old Bailey; 

"When I grow rich" say the bells of Shoreditch; 

"When will that be?" say the bells of Stepney; 

"I do not know" says the great bell of Bow; 
Here comes a candle to light you to bed, 
And here comes a chopper to chop off your head. 



12 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

were generally used. Here and there about the 
city, along the river front and on the main high- 
ways, were the castles of the mighty— twenty, 
thirty, forty of them — great establishments built 
around courtyards, with high banqueting-halls, 
council chambers, even throne-rooms, extensive 
enough to house hundreds of retainers. No less 
impressive and even more numerous were the 
properties of the church and churchmen — the 
cathedral, the monasteries, the nunneries, hos- 
pitals, colleges, and churches — holdings which 
represented enormous wealth and occupied one- 
fourth the acreage of all London. 

The city was, moreover, not unprepared for 
strangers. In addition to the ordinary drinking- 
taverns, there were several popular inns. Of 
these the Tabard, at the end of London Bridge 
in Southwark, was a representative. By its 
position it caught much of the south-country 
custom. Here, naturally, the Canterbury-bound 
pilgrims gathered on the evening before they 
started to the shrine of Thomas a Becket. It was 
a comfortable hostelry, typical of the best that 
London had to offer. A wide gate opened from 
the street into a roomy courtyard overhung by 
balconies from which the sleeping-rooms could be 
reached. The cooking and serving of meals were 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 13 

done in liberal fashion. The dinner hour was 
a time not so much for social intercourse- as for 
the stowing-away of food. Chaucer and his 
friends drank their soup, cut their fowl and roasts 
with their own knives from the supply on the 
serving-dish, ate without forks, dipped their meat 
into the gravy bowl, and helped themselves to 
whatever they wanted, provided they could reach 
it. There was no touch of irony — as the modern 
reader is in danger of thinking — in Chaucer's 
description of the charming table manners of the 
Prioress : 

At mete well y- taught was she with alle: 

She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, 

Ne wette hir fyngres in hir sauce depe; 

Wei koude she carie a morsel and wel kepe 

That no drope ne felle upon hire brest; 

In curteisie was set ful muchel hir lest. 

Hire ouer lippe wyped she so clene, 

That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene 

Of grece, when she dronken hadde hir draughte. 

Ful semely after hir mete she raughte. 1 

Volumes have been written about the mere 
material city. These few facts are the common- 
places to be found in most London books from 
Stow to Baedeker. To the literary student, how- 
ever, the nature and the conduct of the people 

1 See Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, 11. 127-36. 



14 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

are of more interest than a severe enumeration of 
streets and buildings. The fourteenth century 
was a momentous one for all England. The pro- 
gressive changes that are always occurring in any 
virile community were making for a national 
unity more compact and complete than ever be- 
fore; for, through the rise of the common laborer 
in the field and in the shop, England in the age of 
Chaucer and Langland was taking great and spec- 
tacular strides toward democracy of feeling. To 
this end there were many contributing factors. 
Not the least was the achievement of a common 
language, what we now call English at last gaining 
the ascendency not only among the Saxons, who 
had held to it ever since the Conquest, but at 
court, in Parliament, in the schools, and in polite 
literature as well. Only a little less important 
was the national rejoicing in common victories 
over a common enemy, the triumphs at Crecy and 
Poitiers, developing the fresh patriotism that 
comes with the heightened pulse-beat provoked 
by common exultation. Not even the martial 
decay under the later years of Edward III and 
Henry IV could wholly have counteracted this 
fine exhilaration of the mid-century. Moreover, 
one is tempted to say, even in default of abundant 
record, that England was drawn closer together 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 15 

through common sorrow; for the succession of 
plagues which swept the island throughout the 
middle third of the century had left no heart 
untouched. 

It is not hard to find in the backgrounds of the 
literature many concrete and picturesque evi- 
dences of all this. There are plenty of opportu- 
nities for observing at once the decline of the old 
order and the rise of the new — on the one hand, 
the passing of chivalry and the decay of the estab- 
lished church, and on the other the rise of the 
tradesman, the artisan, and the laborer. The 
strict and unrelieved chronicle of these develop- 
ments is history; but abundant use of them is 
made in the literature of the day. 

A completer title for this chapter would have 
been "The London of Langland and Chaucer." 
The composite picture of the city which each of 
them knew and portrayed was a partial picture, of 
course. The great social institutions of his genera- 
tion Chaucer was inclined to take for granted. A 
lover of things beautiful, he was pre-eminently a 
story-teller, and incidentally a critic. In his eyes 
the characters he presented were first, last, and 
always individuals, who could interest and amuse, 
but seldom stir him to indignation. Very much 
after the fashion of Thackeray, if he had ideas as 



1 6 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

to public affairs, he kept them to himself when 
he took his pen in hand. The attitude of Carlyle 
was more nearly approximated in Langland, who 
pictured the same people from a different point 
of view. 

Chaucer, like Thackeray, saw life in terms of 
his own experience. In its general aspects it was 
properly organized. It was conducted for the 
benefit of the upper or better classes. In the 
background, but only there, moved the great 
concourse of the obscure. Langland, like Dickens 
or Carlyle, on the other hand, gave these people 
the center of his picture. It was a street scene 
crowded and suppressed and made the more vivid 
by lights from high windows and the sound of 
laughter and revelry from within. Moreover, 
with all his soberness, Langland, again like 
Dickens and Carlyle, was throwing his influence 
only for a change in the existing order of things, 
working for the conversion of his country-wide 
parish and not for a revolution — even a peaceful 
one. 

The formative period in Chaucer's life, and his 
whole subsequent career, account for the attitude 
toward life which he, doubtless unconsciously, 
assumed. He was born about 1340, the son of a 
London wine merchant, and spent the most of his 




2; 



1 



f " 




CHAUCER'S LONDON 17 

life in the city. At sixteen he was a page; at 
nineteen a soldier in France — and not a paper 
soldier either, for he was imprisoned, and ransomed 
by the King. Subsequently he is recorded as 
serving man to Edward III, squire, and shield- 
bearer. Seven times he was King's Commissioner 
on diplomatic errands to the Continent, three 
times at least going to Italy. He was a Controller 
of the Customs in 1374, Controller of the Petty 
Customs eight years later, a member of Parliament 
in 1386, a clerk of the Royal Works, and, toward 
the end of his life, Forester. When one recalls 
that he lived for some years over one of the chief 
gates of the city, one can see how uninterrupted 
and intimate must have been his acquaintance 
with the people at large. To complete his knowl- 
edge of England his long succession of offices in 
connection with King, Court, and Parliament was 
no less valuable. 

Whatever the authorship of The Vision of 
Piers the Plowman may have been, the man (or 
men) who wrote this work, was schooled in the 
uses of adversity, and saw life from the viewpoint 
of the commoner rather than of the aristocrat. 
Such a man naturally does not find human rela- 
tionships to be particularly amusing. He is too 
keenly aware of their distortions and of all the 



1 8 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

avoidable suffering they cause. In every genera- 
tion there has been at least one prophet to inquire 
as Jonathan Swift did of a friend if "the corrup- 
tions and villainies of men in power did not eat 
his flesh and exhaust his spirits." In such a 
mood did Piers behold his vision. What he pro- 
fessed to see was a progressive picture of all 
England, but as his own experience had made him 
familiar with England's greatest city, many of his 
backgrounds are adapted from it; and the sum 
of them is not a pleasant one. He himself was 
one of the poor for whom John Ball, Jack Straw, 
and Wat Tyler had contended. He had heard 
too much of the evils of prosperity to be a friend 
to it. The consequent reactions of these two men 
upon the chief elements in the social composition 
of London furnish a series of sharp contrasts. 

It may have been out of a not unpleasing 
deference to their rank that in the catalogue of the 
Canterbury Pilgrims Chaucer first introduced the 
Knight and his son, the Squire. Chaucer de- 
scribed them with the friendly respect that one 
naturally pays to gentlemen of the old school. 
His own stories for the most part harked back 
to the days when knighthood was in flower. He 
was naturally interested in survivors of a pictur- 
esque institution, but he displayed no intimate 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 19 

feeling for them. Chaucer's attitude was that of 
the privileged classes of his generation. Their 
imagination fondly reverted to the charming 
traditions of a world which was fading into the 
sunset mists. Continually they upheld in song 
and story the 

Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie 1 

which characterized the relations of knights and 
ladies, and both they and he politely ignored the 
poverty and oppression suffered by the masses 
upon whose backs the great superstructures of 
chivalry arose. Fancy could kindle at the cam- 
paigns, in Prussia and Russia, in Algiers, along 
the Mediterranean, and in Turkey, in which the 
"verray parrlt gentil knight" 2 had participated, 
and could linger at the feasts where he had occu- 
pied the seat of honor. So, too, it could dwell on 
the joyous aspects of life as embodied in the Squire, 
the glass of fashion and the mold of form. In his 
love of song he was the courtly incarnation of 
lyric poetry; in his fondness for dress he was a 
delight to the eye of a nation that doted on mum- 
mings and pageantries, appareled its Aldermen 
in "orient grained scarlet," and clothed its outlaw 
foresters in Lincoln green. 

1 Prologue, 1. 46. 

2 Ibid., 1. 72. 



20 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Quite in contrast was Langland's treatment of 
the same narrative material. To him also the 
Knight stands for something that has passed; but 
he sees nothing to fascinate him in the glory of 
the days that have gone. Like Lowell, 1 four 
centuries later, he concludes that the ideal of 
manhood can justify itself only through the exer- 
cise of a love of mankind that transcends class 
distinction. Piers, discoursing to his pilgrims, 
says: 

"Take heed how the needy and the naked lie, and 
devise clothes for them, for so Truth commandeth. For 
I will give them their livelihood, unless the land fail, 
flesh and bread both for rich and poor as long as I live, 
for the Lord of Heaven is love. And all manner of men 
who live by meat and drink, keep them to work busily 
who win your food." 

"By Christ," then said a knight, "he teacheth us the 
best, but about that matter truly I was never taught. 
But teach me," said the knight, "and, by Christ, I will 
try!" 2 

Thus encouraged, Piers turns from the group 
at large to this one new promising disciple, and 
instructs him, not how to become a laborer him- 
self, but how to use his powers aright. He is 
to fight wickedness, to be guilty of no selfish 

1 See Lowell's "Vision of Sir Launfal." 

2 Piers the Plowman done into modern prose by Kate M. Warren 
(London, 1899), Passus VI, p. 90. 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 21 

pleasures, to vex no tenant, and to ill-use no bond- 
men; and when he has heard the admonitions 
to an end, the Knight assents with a whole heart. 
"I will do according to thy words while my life 
lasteth." 1 Langland has no word to waste on the 
splendors of the tournament or the glamor of the 
Court of Love. He looks forward rather than 
back, and dreams of the new golden age when 
knighthood shall learn for the first time who are 
the helpless and afflicted and shall aspire to the 
beauty of holiness. 

In the Canterbury Prologue, Knight and Squire 
are dismissed more or less by way of preface ; and 
then comes the most important single group of all, 
the various individuals representing the church — 
a Monk, a Friar, a Nun and her three Priests, a 
Summoner, and a Pardoner, a Parson, and the 
Prioress to whom allusion has already been made. 
It was no accident that in Chaucer's enumeration 
of the Canterbury Pilgrims so large a proportion 
of them were churchmen, for the church was rich 
and powerful to a degree almost inconceivable if 
one tries to appreciate it in terms of present-day 
conditions. Chaucer's London was thoroughly 
church-ridden. The number of people dependent 
upon it was very great. John Stow in his Survey 

1 Ibid., p. 91. 



22 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

of London has enumerated some of the staff of 
St. Paul's Cathedral, the largest foundation in 
the city. The society included the Bishop, the 
Dean, the five Archdeacons, the Treasurer, the 
Precentor, the Chancellor, thirty greater Canons, 
twelve lesser Canons, about fifty Chaplains, and 
thirty Vicars; and below these were a long list 
of inferior offices including "the four vergers, the 
twelve scribes, the singing men and the choir boys, 
and the sextons, grave-diggers, gardeners, mend- 
ers and makers of the robes, cleaners, sweepers, 
carpenters, masons, painters, carvers, and guild- 
ers." When one considers that this list does not 
include any such representatives of the church 
as the Prioress, Monk, Friar, Pardoner, Summoner, 
and Priests in the roster of the Canterbury Pil- 
grims, one can see that Chaucer made only modest 
use of the opportunities afforded him by the church 
in the fourteenth century. 

Chaucer's attitude toward this group is dis- 
criminating, with sharp criticism for those who 
deserve it and equal praise for those who had 
earned it. The great orders of traveling and 
mendicant monks— the Franciscans, Dominicans, 
Carmelites, and Austins — had forgotten the ideals 
of simplicity and discipline in pursuit of which they 
had been founded, and partly through their own 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 23 

selfishness, but partly through the misplaced 
enthusiasm of patrons who had dealt too lavishly 
with them, they had degenerated into enormously 
wealthy and self-indulgent groups. Therefore it 
is that the Monk is described as loving the hunt, 
fond of a good horse, neglectful of study, gorgeous 
in dress, and "full fat" as the result of his devo- 
tion to the table. 

The abuses of the confessional, penance, abso- 
lution, and the ecclesiastical courts are, of course, 
in the history of the Reformation, commonplaces 
of which Chaucer had a vigorous word to say in 
connection with the Friar, Pardoner, and Sum- 
moner. The first was an "easy man to give 
penance," indulgent to sinners in direct ratio to 
their generosity with him. He was a noble beg- 
gar, but by no means beggarly in his dress or diet. 
But the others were worse; for ways that were 
dark in hypocrisy, flattery, chicanery, and down- 
right viciousness, they were the blackest of black 
sheep in the company of pilgrims. 

Yet Chaucer was careful not to overlook those 
who deserved his respect. The dainty but some- 
what futile Prioress, well mannered, sentimental, 
and debonairly virtuous, was an amiable member 
of the group, and the poor Parson was a fine 
representative of the self-forgetful unworldliness 



24 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

described, at least by implication, in Milton's 
"Lycidas" 1 and later still in Goldsmith's 
"Deserted Village." 2 Of his little he was free 
to give. There was no exertion that he would 
spare himself for the sake of one of his flock. He 
was more eager to be doing his work well where he 
was than to sublet his benefice and run to London 
"into Seinte Poules" in order to find for himself 
a better job there. Nor was he a hopelessly 
meek and gentle soul, for when occasion demanded 
he was capable of righteous indignation. If we 
had no other authority -to go to we should gain 
from the Prologue what history shows to be a 
fair estimate of the fourteenth-century church, 
that as an institution it had fallen upon dark days; 
that then as in Milton's generation there were too 
many who had crept and intruded and climbed 
into the fold simply for what they could find to 
eat when they got there; that simple credulity 
made easy victims of the ignorant populace for the 
ecclesiastical "confidence men" who swarmed 
England as they did all Europe; but that here 
and there were to be found spirited and unambi- 
tious men of whom it could be said as it was of the 
poor Parson: 

1 See Milton, "Lycidas," 11. 113-31. 

2 See Goldsmith, "Deserted Village," 11. 141-92. 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 25 

But Cristcs loore and hise Apostles twelve 
He taughte; but first he folwed it himselve. 1 

Langland holds much the same picture up to 
view. At the opening of his Prologue he presents 
it. The tongues of pilgrims and palmers were 
"more tuned to lying than to telling the truth." 
Friars of the four Orders preached to the people 
for their own profit, and interpreted the Gospel 
as it seemed good to them. A Pardoner was 
shamelessly plying his trade. Parsons and parish 
priests were soliciting fat jobs in London. Bishops, 
already there, were so conducting themselves that 
"it is to be feared Christ at the last will curse 
full many of them in His Court." 2 Langland, 
saying the same things that Chaucer did, spoke 
more sternly, but he also went a step farther. 
To Piers, for his integrity and his honest service, 
he pronounced a pardon extending to his heirs 
forevermore; and to a whole class, who might 
have been parishioners to the poor Parson, he 
held out a living hope : 

All laborers living who live honestly by their hands, 
and live in love and under law, because of their lowly 
hearts, shall have the same absolution that was sent to 
Piers. 3 

1 Prologue, 11. 527, 528. 

2 Piers the Plowman, tr. Warren, Prologue, p. 5. 

3 Ibid., Passus VII, p. 108. 



26 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

The tribute to labor is paid by Chaucer as 
well as by Langland. Of the entire group of 
Canterbury Pilgrims none receives a higher 
tribute than does the Plowman, brother to the 
poor Parson. It was with a real appreciation 
of the dignity of the peasant that Chaucer wrote: 

A trewe swinkere and a good was he, 
Livinge in pees and parfit charitee. 1 

Yet his comment on the peacefulness of the ideal 
laborer may have been stimulated by the fact that 
during his lifetime the farm workers had been an 
excited and turbulent lot. From the middle of the 
century when the ravages of the Black Plague had 
so disturbed the economy of the farming counties 
that stringent laws had been passed to hold labor 
in check, discontent upon the land had been 
steadily growing. It was not till 1381 that 
affairs reached a climax; but then the peasants 
gathered by thousands and scores of thousands, 
freed John Ball, ''the mad priest," from his 
Canterbury imprisonment, flooded on toward 
London, putting to death all lawyer-stewards 
whom they captured, gained entrance to the city, 
and fired the palace of John of Gaunt and the Inn 
of the lawyers at the Temple. In London, joined 
by others from the north, they burst into the 

1 Prologue, 11. 531, 532. 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 27 

Tower and seized Archbishop Sudbury and slew 
him. It was not till the young King Richard, 
crying, "I am your captain and your King; fol- 
low me!" had given them all letters of pardon 
and emancipation that they scattered to their 
homes. No mention of this episode by Chaucer 
or Langland; by Langland because the "B text" 
of the Vision was written too early, by Chaucer 
either because it did not interest him, or because 
allusions to it would not have been welcome to 
his noble and royal patrons. 

The Peasant Revolt, in spite of its spectacular 
culmination, was followed by so strong a reaction 
that ultimate success did not arrive till long years 
later. When it did come it was the result of a 
general movement, of which the development of the 
craft and trade guilds was another manifestation. 
In general, this was a movement toward break- 
ing down the powers of the hereditary rich. It 
would be simple and pleasant if one could say 
that it broke down the power of wealth and abol- 
ished class distinctions. It did not; for it gave 
new power to the merchant class because of their 
ability as a group to amass wealth. And again 
it did not; for the merchants set themselves off 
from the master-craftsmen, and the master- 
craftsmen from the journeymen, who in turn stood 



28 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

above the apprentices. Yet in general the power 
of both craftsman and merchant had been develop- 
ing more rapidly than that of the farmer. 

Realizing the hopelessness of the individual, 
the workers in various handicrafts had through 
generations been organizing together. In the 
greater towns, their numbers were such that their 
powers had become by no means negligible. In 
different portions of London they had their 
segregated quarters — the haberdashers in one 
place, the goldsmiths in another, the drapers, 
the vintners, the ironmongers, and the dealers in 
various wares each in their own little district. 
Not content with merely gathering into neighbor- 
hoods, they were organizing themselves into per- 
manent bodies, securing charters from the King, 
establishing standards of work and of pay, and 
achieving many fruits of close organization which 
the trades-unionist of today is apt to consider 
the result of nineteenth- and twentieth-century 
developments. So in the group of pilgrims 
Chaucer introduced the Haberdasher, Carpenter, 
Weaver, Dyer, and Upholsterer, commented on 
the sumptuous liveries they wore, and alluded to 
their eligibility to sit in councils of the city and 
to satisfy their wives' ambitions for social distinc- 
tion. 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 29 

Wei semed ech of hem a fair burgeys 
To sitten in a yeldehalle on a deys. 
Everich for the wisdom that he kan 
Was shaply for to been an alderman. 1 

Moreover, if the maker of things could aspire 
to be an alderman, the buyer and seller could hope 
to become Lord Mayor. Such was Richard 
Whittington for four terms during his honored 
career. Scientific history in its ruthless course 
has done away with the most picturesque features 
of the Whittington tradition. He did not spring 
from obscure parentage and almost leave the city 
in discouragement. It may be that he did not 
even have a cat; but he was a merchant prince 
and a Lord Mayor, and he did sit before kings and 
leave splendid benefactions to his fellow-citizens. 

That these changes were not automatically 
bringing to pass a new Utopia, Langland was very 
well aware. New abuses were boldly striding to 
take the place of old ones or to share the booty 
with them. It was not alone in the church to 
the Friars that "Falseness for fear" had fled; for 
Guile, "almost affrighted to death, had been 
given a roof by the merchants and appareled as 
a 'prentice to serve the people." In this guise 
he played his part at the shop doors or beside 

1 Prologue, 11. 369-72. 



30 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the open displays on the streets, calling the mas- 
ter's wares to all passers. 

Cooks and their knaves cried, "Hot pies, hot! Good 
pigs and geese! Come and dine, come and dine." 
Taverners, too, called, "White wine of Alsace, and red 
wine of Gascony, wine of the Rhine and wine of Rochelle, 
to wash down the roast!" 1 

And in the meantime dishonesty flourished among 

brewers and bakers, butchers and cooks; for these are 
the men on earth who do the most harm to the poor people 
who buy in small portions. For they often poison the 
people privily, and they grow rich through their small 
trade, and get revenue themselves for what the poor 
people should put in their belly. Had they made their 
wealth in honesty, they had not built such high houses, 
nor bought such tenements for themselves, be ye full 
certain. 2 

As from time immemorial the lawyers had 
enjoyed an unpopularity all their own, it can 
hardly be said that the dislike of the people for 
the Templars was transferred to the jurists who 
became the possessors of their enviable property. 
Chaucer makes his representative of the profession 
a man of overwhelming external respectability 
which was a product of unsleeping discreetness 
compounded with oracular speech. He was a 

1 Piers the Plowman, tr. Warren, Prologue, p. n. 

2 Ibid., Passus III, p. 35. 



CHAUCER'S LONDON 31 

master of form and precedent, and was so skilful 
in drawing up his papers that for an adequate 
fee he could defeat the law as cleverly as for an 
equal amount he could defend it. Langland's 
estimate was similar, although he naturally was 
less alive to the humor of the situation and vindic- 
tive in his aspersions against the oppressors of 
the poor. Lydgate in his London Lyckpeny pre- 
sents the case of a poor man who "lackyng mony 
.... myght not spede." He was robbed, re- 
fused provender, and generally neglected, but his 
chief grievance was that in none of the courts 
could he get any attention, because of his poverty. 
Thus in his progress toward a larger freedom 
and a fairer share of the fruits of his own labors 
the luckless poor man was beset on every hand. 
The church defrauded him with mock dispensa- 
tions; the physician beguiled him of what little 
gold he had for the preparation of sovereign 
remedies; 1 the tradesmen were watching for 
chances to give him inferior wares and false 
measures; the lawyer refused to serve him be- 
cause the others had already stripped him bare. 2 
Yet in spite of all, it is quite evident from poets 

1 Prologue, 11. 411-44, particularly last three lines. 

2 See John Lydgate, London Lyckpeny; also, for general charac- 
terization, Prologue, 11. 309-30; and Piers the Plowman, tr. Warren, 
Prologue, p. 11. 



32 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

and historians alike that this same poor man was 
living in Merry England and in Merry London. 
All the love of display found its source in an 
energetic love of life. The gorgeous progresses 
of the King and the Lord Mayor, the solemn bril- 
liance of the red-robed Aldermen, the gay pageants 
down gaily decorated Cheapside, the wondrous 
ladies of the court and the wondrously emulative 
ladies of the city, the church days and feast 
days and, best of all, the May days — these all 
belonged to no despondent people. They were 
the pleasures of a people some of whom were 
hopeful, but most of whom, better still, were 
simply carefree. 

For the continued noise and uproar of the city, for 
its crowds, for its smells, the people cared nothing. They 
were part of the city. They loved everything that 
belonged to it — their great Cathedral; their hundred 
churches; their monasteries; their palaces and the men- 
at-arms; .... the ridings and the festivals and the 
holy days; the ringing, clanging, clashing of the bells all 
daylong; the drinking at the taverns; the wrestling and 
the archery; the dancing; the fife and tabor; the pageants 
and the mumming and the love-making — all, all they 
loved. And they thought in their pride that there was 
not anywhere in the whole habitable world .... any 
city that might compare with famous London Town. 1 

'Sir Walter Besant, London, 1892, pp. 261, 262. 




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CHAUCER'S LONDON 33 

Illustrative Readings 

Biography and Social History 

Besant, Walter, Mediaeval London (social). 
Besant, Walter, and Rice, James, Sir Richard 

Whittington. 
Coulton, G. G., Chaucer and His England. 
Jusserand, J. J., English Wayfaring Life in the 

Middle Ages. 

Contemporary Criticism and Satire 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, Prologue to the Canterbury Tales. 
Langland, William, Vision of Piers the Plowman, 
done into modern English by Kate M. Warren. 
Lydgate, John, London Lyckpeny. 
Songs of the London Prentices and Trades, "Percy 
Society Publications," London, 1841, Vol. I. 



Paston Letters (142 2-1 509), ed. James Gardner, 
3 vols., though strictly post-Chaucerian, are use- 
ful in connection with the life of the day. 
Fiction (For detailed content of novels, see appendix on 

illustrative fiction.) 

James, G. P. R., Agincourt. 

Lytton, Bulwer, The Last of the Barons. 

Morris, William, Dream of John Ball. 

Drama 

Heywood, Thomas, I and II, Edward IV. 

Rowe, Nicholas, Jane Shore. 

Shakespeare, William, Richard II and 777; Henry 

IV; Henry VI. 



CHAPTER II 
SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 

From the age of Chaucer to the age of Shake- 
speare is somewhat over two hundred years. In 
the distance of both eras from the twentieth cen- 
tury the changes which took place between the 
fourteenth and the sixteenth should not be lost 
sight of. London had considerably more than 
doubled itself in population, rising from 40,000 
to about 100,000; as a result it had greatly 
increased in size. The old walled City was still 
preserved in its integrity, but a large amount of 
building had been done outside of it. Southwark 
was much more of a community than before, 
especially along the river bank to the east of 
London Bridge; the roads leading out from 
Aldgate and Bishopsgate were flanked by double 
rows of houses for a half-mile or more; and the 
territory lying to the north and west sides — from 
Moorgate all the way around to the river — was 
generously populated. The river front as far 
down as the Abbey was solidly lined with imposing 
structures; Charing Cross was a considerable 
village, so that Westminster was the last link in a 

34 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 35 

now unbroken chain of public and private build- 
ings. 

An increase in population and size, however, 
shows no necessary change in the real character 
of the community. More important is the fact 
that England in the days of Shakespeare and 
Elizabeth became finally and confidently inde- 
pendent. The succession of struggles with out- 
side powers for century after century had by no 
means been concluded in Chaucer's day; but 
with the destruction of the Armada in 1588, 
England may be said for the last time to have felt 
reasonable fear of invasion by a Continental 
power. 

More important than either growth or inde- 
pendence is the fact that Shakespeare's England 
and London had become secularized. Not only 
was the idea of the pilgrimage gone out of date, 
but if reasons of diversion had given rise to a com- 
mon cross-country journey by any thirty Lon- 
doners, the distribution of characters would have 
been utterly different in Elizabeth's day from 
what it was in that of Richard II. London was 
no longer overwhelmed by the religious orders. 
A natural degeneration, toward which Chaucer 
and Langland pointed before 1400, finally brought 
about between 1530 and 1540 the dissolution of 



36 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the monasteries. A commission was appointed, 
and when after investigation the abuses which 
existed within their walls were reported to Parlia- 
ment, privileges from the smaller ones were first 
withdrawn and soon after the larger ones were 
condemned and taken over by the Crown. Many 
of the establishments were regranted as private 
holdings to powerful individuals, some were con- 
verted to school uses, and in a surprisingly short 
time the vast piles of architecture which had been 
devoted to the ostensibly religious pursuits of the 
few were turned over to the community and 
variously adapted to frankly worldly ends. 

This dissolution of the monasteries was an 
effect rather than a cause, for a matter of deeper 
import than the mere reallotment of property was 
that there had come a redistribution of interest 
in the affairs of life. The Age of the New Learning 
had taken most minds away from those subjects to 
which the early monks had honestly devoted 
themselves. The relation of man to God had 
ceased to be as interesting as the relation of man 
to his fellows and the environment in which he was 
placed, so that the bewildered sense of baffled 
ignorance in which most of the thinking people 
of Chaucer's day were lost was replaced by a 
delighted feeling of interest and wonder at the 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 37 

marvels of the material world. Thus it was that 
progress was made at once in astronomy, explora- 
tion, and the study of physical sciences in general, 
at the same time that men became interested 
anew in themselves and their ways, physical, 
psychical, and social. The spirit of the new age 
is in a fashion summed up in Hamlet's lines when, 
after referring to "this most excellent canopy, the 
air," and "this majestical roof fretted with 
golden stars," he said: 

What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! 
how infinite in faculties! in form and moving how express 
and admirable ! in action how like an angel ! in apprehen- 
sion how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon 
of animals! 1 

While this matter can easily be overempha- 
sized, the shift in point of view from the churchly 
to the worldly is well illustrated in the develop- 
ments connected with the theater. Records show 
that the early dramatic efforts of the Middle Ages 
were one evidence of a general movement to make 
more elaborate and attractive the house of wor- 
ship and the services held therein; but they show 
further a steady succession of steps which took 
the drama quite out of the hands of the church. 
The first dramatic tropes were interpolated in the 
regular and formal church services. As they were 

1 Hamlet, Act II, scene ii. 



38 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

further elaborated they were given independently 
of any special stated worship, were presented in 
the churchyards rather than under the church roof, 
were participated in by laymen, and were finally 
presented in the public squares under the auspices 
of craft guilds. With the development of Renais- 
sance influence in England the alienation of church 
and stage became complete. For the Puritans, 
conservators of English morality, were for the 
most part either indifferent or hostile to all that 
distracted their minds from the "contemplation 
of superior beings and eternal interests," while in 
strong contrast the playwrights were transmitting 
to delighted audiences dramatic forms and fictions 
which were drawn from shockingly pagan ancestry. 
A natural consequence of these develop- 
ments was that by the days of Shakespeare plays 
and play-acting were all too often included among 
the diversions of the unrespectable, fostered, to be 
sure, under court auspices, but relentlessly opposed 
by the rigorous and conservative Puritan element 
who were conducting a regular campaign toward 
their complete elimination, actuated by the 
amiable feeling that because they were virtuous 
there should "be no more cakes and ale." 1 As a 

1 This hostility gave rise to various retorts from the stage, as 
for instance the speech of Sir Toby Belch in Twelfth Night (Act II, 
scene iii), here alluded to. Zeal-of-the-Land Busy in Jonson's 
Bartholomew Fair (Acts I, III, V) covers the Puritans with ridicule. 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 39 

result of their persistent and finally successful 
lobbying the theaters of Shakespeare's day were 
to be found after 1576 outside the City limits. 
Technically the legislation was a triumph, but 
practically it amounted to very little, for every 
playhouse was still within easy walking-distance 
from the center of the town. Among the earliest 
the Theater (built 1576), the Curtain (1576), 
and the Fortune (1599) were on the north of 
London, and the Rose (1592), the Globe (rebuilt 
in 1599 from the old Theater), and the Hope, or 
Bear Garden (1613), were across the river in 
Southwark. 

For the casual visitor the typical playhouses 
of the day must have attracted immediate atten- 
tion. They were as a rule round or octagonal 
buildings, fairly high- walled, surmounted with 
little extra cupolas, and topped upon these with 
flags on the days when performances were to be 
held. The plans and drawings of the city made 
by various contemporary artists seem in many 
respects to have been so inaccurate in scale that 
it is very hard to believe they did not all tend to 
err in suggesting that the theaters were tower- 
like in their general proportions. It is difficult 
to estimate just how there could have been room 
for even a modestly small audience in the narrow 



40 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

and angularly erect structures pictured in various 
drawings of the Bear Garden, the Globe, and the 
Rose. Moreover, the picture of the Fortune 
Theater, which is quite different from the others, 
and the specifications of the building are more 
nearly what one would expect for a hall designed 
to hold a fairly large number of people. 

As may be inferred from the first chapter, the 
general scheme for theater construction is quite 
evidently derived from the conventional plan of 
the old inns. These hostelries were built flush 
on the street about an inner court, balconies 
passing entirely around the yards and serving as 
hallways for surrounding rooms on the upper 
floors. The early players, in order to give a 
performance at one of these inns, would build a 
platform at one end projecting out one-third or 
one-half way into the yard. From the ground 
level a play thus presented could be witnessed 
by the hostlers and servants as they stood under 
the open sky on whatever kind of rough or wet 
surface the season and the weather might furnish, 
but from the balconies the patrons of the house 
and such others as secured admission could observe 
the performance from under cover and very prob- 
ably from comfortable seats. 

The specifications for the building of the 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 41 

Fortune Theater, dated January 8, 1599, show how 
closely this general scheme was followed. The 
building was eighty feet square on the outside 
dimensions, and in the inside fifty-five feet square, 
the remaining twenty-five feet being taken up by 
the balconies — twelve and one-half feet in width 
on all four sides. The stage was forty-three feet 
in length, and extended forward to the middle of 
the yard, or between twenty-seven and twenty- 
eight feet. As the balcony ran behind the stage, 
it was possible to use this in connection with the 
play, as well also as the space beneath it. Thus 
were roughly duplicated the conditions which 
prevailed in the old inn-yards, and with modifica- 
tions these were the lines on which the Elizabethan 
theaters were all constructed. 

In general, the extreme simplicity of setting, 
which has become a byword of literary history, 
has been somewhat exaggerated. The number 
of properties was not inconsiderable, and the 
expense for special settings and for floral decora- 
tions frequently amounted to a respectable figure. 
The fact still remains, however, that, in compari- 
son to the devices of the present, the expedients of 
the stage manager were of the simplest, and the 
responsibility of contributing to the illusion of 
the hour was thrown much more frankly on the 



42 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

audience than it is today. It was for them to 
indulge in that "willing suspension of disbelief" 
that constitutes poetic faith. This was the more 
necessary through the usual lack of scenic cos- 
tumes, for the apparel of the actors, whether they 
were playing in Timon of Athens, Julius Caesar, 
Merchant of Venice, Hamlet, or Richard III, was 
likely to be inappropriate to any but modern times. 
One more tax upon the spectators' imagination was 
laid by the work of the boy actors, these playing 
the female roles in default of women actors. In 
the gorgeous masques and pageants of the day, 
which we shall discuss later, elaborateness of scene 
and costume was carried to the most extreme 
points; but not in the theater. 

As the theater was throughout this period ex- 
posed to the skies, the pit being quite uncovered, 
the presentation of plays hinged upon weather 
conditions. Above the theater, a part correspond- 
ing to the flies of today, was a small superstructure, 
and from this was flown a flag which could tell to 
distant patrons whether or not a performance was 
to be given. If it was, the distribution of the 
audience corresponded with that in the inn-yard; 
and the pit, or that portion of the floor imme- 
diately in front of the stage, which is now regarded 
as the best part of the house, was then the cheapest 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 43 

and most indiscriminate. In America there is 
nothing to recall this old arrangement of the 
spectators. In Germany, however, one still dis- 
covers that in the larger theaters the best seats 
are the "erste Reihe, erster Rang" — first row, 
first balcony — and the seats on the first floor are 
next in value. In London today conditions are 
even nearer those of the past, for the pit still 
survives, although it has been pushed to the rear 
of the floor, where people who wish to take their 
chances can secure places — on wooden benches to 
be sure — for two shillings and sixpence, the seats 
immediately in front of them costing slightly more 
than four times as much. 1 The one Elizabethan 
usage of which there is no survival was the custom 
of allowing play-goers to sit actually upon the 
stage, a vantage point occupied by the young 
gallants who wanted to be in what we should call 
today "the limelight." Modern vanity has to be 
content with a stage box at the play, or at the 
opera with a place in the "diamond horseshoe." 
The atmosphere of the playhouse was free and 
easy, the players gaining and holding the attention 

1 It is interesting to know, too, that in accordance with the nature 
of the play the distribution of the floor between the pit and the 
orchestra stalls will fluctuate. I have been on the same day at one 
theater in which a Shakespeare play was presented where the pit 
occupied only the last six rows, and to a popular melodrama in a 
neighboring house where the pit included all but the first five rows. 



44 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

of the audience by virtue of the merits of the 
play and their art, little protected by any polite 
conventions on the part of the audience. As 
Dekker points out, 1 doubtless with some exaggera- 
tion but yet with greater measure of truth, the 
young buck who took his position on the stage 
gained notoriety not merely by virtue of being 
seen in a conspicuous place, but on account of his 
aggressive behavior. If he chose, he might come 
late, or if early he could play cards upon the 
platform. He could make comments upon the 
play and the author, and, if too much displeased 
might, "rise with a screwd and discontented face 
from his stoole to be gone." In the meantime, 
communication with the audience was possible, 
talk with such women as might be within 
hearing, and the chance of male retort not only 
by word of mouth but in more vigorous ways: 
Neither are you to be hunted from thence, though the 
Scarcrows in the yard hoot at you, hisse at you, spit at 
you, yea, throw durt euen in your teeth: tis most Gentle- 
manlike patience to endure all this, and to laugh at the 
silly Animals. 

Yet the conduct within doors was mild compared 
to the carryings-on outside the theaters. The 

1 The Guls Horne-booke, 1609, (a running satire on the ways of 
the would-be gallant), chap, vi, "How a Gallant Should Behave 
Himselfe in a Playhouse." 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 45 

Puritans had good ground for their continued 
protests against the disorder promoted by play- 
going, and particularly against the Sunday out- 
breaks. Where there are great concourses of 
people, dissensions among the rulers, and poor 
policing, the devil is easily raised. 

In general, it may be said that the Elizabethans 
were not given to extreme self-discipline. They 
liked noise whether it took the form of loud mirth 
or angry altercation, and they enjoyed action 
whether it were in dancing about the maypole or 
in a free fight. Naturally, then, on holidays and 
Sundays no great stimulus was necessary to 
produce an uproar in the neighborhood of the 
theaters as the crowds were assembling or scatter- 
ing. The very opposition of the Puritans to the 
theater on the ground that it encouraged unruli- 
ness may have added a little zest to the already 
healthy spirit of unrest. 

Of the inns and taverns, to the structure of 
which the theater was in some measure indebted, 
we do not know that the proportionate number 
was far greater than in earlier times. Fitz- 
Stephen's complaint in the twelfth century that 
one of the two pests of London was "the im- 
moderate drinking of fools" suggests no dearth 
of drinking-places even then. It may be that 



46 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the apparent multiplication of them is due merely 
to the greater abundance of Elizabethan records. 

On the way from Whitehall to Charing Cross we pass 
the White Heart, the Red Lion, the Mermaide, iij Tuns, 
Salutation, the Graihound, the Bell, the Golden Lion. 
In sight of Charing Cross: the Garter, the Crown, the 
Bear and Ragged Staff, the Angel, the King Harry Head. 
There from Charing Cross towards ye cittie: another 
White Hart, the Eagle and the Child, the Helmet, the 
Swan, the Bell, King Harry Head, the Flower de Luce, 
Angel, Holy Lambe, the Bear and Harrow, the Plough, 
the Shippe, the Black Bell, another King Harry Head, 
the Bull Head, the Golden Bull, a sixpenny ordinary, 
another Flower de Luce, the Red Lion, the Horns, the 
White Horse, the Princess' arms, Bell Savage's Inn, the 
St. John the Baptist, the Talbot, the Ship of War, the 
St. Dunstan, the Hercules, or the Owld Man Tavern, the 
Mitre, another King Harry Head, iij Tuns, and the iij 
Cranes. 1 

These and hundreds of others all through 
London partook of the nature of the age. They 
were rude and barbarous in some respects, and 
in others almost splendid. Harrison, in describ- 
ing them in 1587, 2 found himself hard beset, 
between his pride and his candor, to tell the whole 
truth about them. They were "great and sump- 

1 Harleian MS 6850, fol. 31. 

2 Harrison 's England, "New Shakespeare Society Publications," 
Series VI, reprinted in cheap form in "Camelot Series." 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 47 

tuous," and the guests might each use his own 
room as his castle. They boasted good food 
and clean linen, guaranty against loss of property, 
and ample service for man and beast. So far 
he could proceed with a clear conscience, but now, 
perhaps as the memory of his own wrongs returned 
to him, he was compelled to admit that the host- 
lers did "deceive the beast oftentimes of his 
allowance," and that whole establishments were 
more or less in league with the gentlemen of the 
road, telling them which of the patrons were 
best worth lying in wait for. Finally, as a kind 
of mitigating conclusion, he recorded that their 
signs were gorgeous, sometimes costing as much 
as thirty or forty pounds. 

These taverns were quite as interesting on 
account of the use of their rooms by Londoners 
as by travelers who slept under their roofs. 
There were all sorts of people. The more 
reputable the patrons, the less spectacular and 
interesting was their behavior. For the young 
gallant of such a type as Lord Dalgarno, 1 or the 
type which Glenvarloch for a while developed 
into, and for all the men of less consequence who 
naturally followed in the train of such young 
bloods, the Ordinary was a popular resort. 

1 Scott, The Fortunes of Nigel, chaps, xi, xii ff . 



48 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Dekker devotes a chapter to it in his historic 
satire. 1 The young "Gul" is instructed in detail. 
He must arrive with a flourish; select his single 
companion with care; talk ostentatiously not to 
the general company but at it; "eate as impu- 
dently as can be," and then resort to whatever 
business calls him. This business, however, will 
probably be gambling, "for there is no such place 
of public resort but what your eyes may be therein 
contaminated by the sight of a pack of pieces of 
pasteboard and your ears profaned by the rattle 
of those little spotted cubes of ivory." In 
playing, the "Gul" must show great self-control, 
lest his anger in losing betray the shortness of his 
funds. "Mary, I will allow you to sweat priuate- 
ly, and teare six or seven score paire of cards, 
be the damnation of some dozen or twenty baile 
of dice, and forsweare play a thousand times in an 
houre, but not sweare." 

Before the day is far gone the situation will be 
saved by a new diversion: "the guests are all up, 
the guilt rapiers ready to be hanged, the French 
Lackquey and the Irish Footeboy, shrugging at 
the doores with their master's hobby-horses, to 
ride to the new play: that's the Randevous; 
thither they are gallopt in post." 

1 The Gids Home-booke, chap, v, The "Ordinary"; chap, vii, 
"The Taverne." 




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SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 49 

If the worldlings had taken possession of the 
tavern, as was natural from the beginning, and of 
the theater, as was finally to be expected, they 
had also not allowed the church to escape. Ben 
Jonson in his Every Man Out of his Humour 1 gives 
one a startling suggestion as to the way in which 
the noble old St. Paul's Cathedral was being 
misused, and Dekker offers more explicit testi- 
mony. 2 The surrounding churchyard, although 
dignified by Paul's Cross from which occasional 
sermons were still preached, was used far more 
for various purposes of business; but the interior 
of the church itself was no better off. The main 
aisle of the nave, famous as Paul's Walk, during 
the middle of each day was thronged with citizens 
who came there for every sort of purpose but a 
religious one. Different points in the Walk were 
employed for different kinds of rendezvous. 
Chaucer's Man of Law gathered with his fellows 
in the porch, but in the days of Elizabeth the 
lawyers did their self -advertising within. Labor- 
ers presented themselves for hire here; merchan- 
dise was displayed; peddlers of all sorts did a 
thriving business; and the dissolute population 

1 Every Man Out of His Humour, Act III, scene i. 

2 The Guls Home-booke, chap, iv, "How a Gallant Should Behave 
Himselfe in Powle's Walkes." 



50 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

of London, the immortal Bardolph included, 1 
contributed to make the place notorious. Dis- 
tressing as the spectacle may have been from a 
purely religious point of view, St. Paul's as a 
picturesque compendium of the life of the City 
must have proved a fascinating place for any 
traveler through town. 

To pass eastward from St. Paul's was to go to 
the real business center of the City, Cheapside, the 
nature of which had not changed since Chaucer's 
day. 2 The progress of a pageant through Cheap- 
side was not an occasion on which the populace 
played the part of meek and lowly spectators, 
for the degree of self-discipline noticeable in a 
modern English crowd had not then been attained. 
The Lord Mayor's show of 1617 as described by an 
eyewitness seems to have been made picturesque 
quite as much by the informalities of the occasion 
as by the regularly prepared display. " The sleek, 
plump city marshal on horseback, looking like 
the head priest of Bacchus, tried to keep order in 
vain." 3 The companies in the windows showered 

1 II Henry IV, Act I, scene ii. Falstaff says of Bardolph; 
"I bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy me a horse in Smithfield," 
etc. 

2 See chap, i, pp. 7-9. 

s Harrison, Description of England, 1587, Forewords to Part II, 
36, p. 55, "New Shakespeare Society Publications," Series VI, 5, 8. 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 51 

squibs and firecrackers below, to the apparent 
delight of the people who were hit, and fireworks 
were rather recklessly used to clear the way for 
the procession. On the few coaches which ap- 
peared in the street the mob climbed and clung, 
freely using mud on the occupants in one case 
where they protested. There is in all of this 
pomp and pageantry as one judges it from the 
standards of today a curious mixture of crudeness 
and splendor, which in various recombinations 
repeatedly appears in the manners and customs 
of the age. 

As any procession progressed out of Cheap- 
side past St. Paul's through Ludgate down Fleet 
Street, it passed through a district lined with 
small shops of a kind that were in existence from 
Chaucer's day to Dickens', although at no time 
more flourishing than in Shakespeare's period. 
The shops were small and open and so arranged 
that more or less of the display of goods could be 
made in the street. The masters were aided by 
one or two apprentices who were variously useful 
but most conspicuous on account of two activities. 
One of these was in the soliciting of trade, in 
promoting which they acted somewhat as the 
"barkers" in the miscellaneous districts of modern 
expositions, and somewhat as the salesmen do in 



52 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the modern cheaper-grade department stores. 
The variety of cries, frequently referred to in the 
literature of the day, has been used by Scott in 
giving local color to the early chapters of Sir Nigel. 
The other activity of the apprentices was hardly 
official, involving as it did the general free fights 
in which the apprentices against common enemies 
rallied each other with the cry "Clubs!" It was 
not a bad training for the times when they were 
drafted into real war, and doubly justified Simon 
Eyre's exhortation to one of them in Dekker's 
Shoemaker's Holiday 1 that he " fight for the honour 
of the gentle craft, .... the flower of St. 
Martin's, the mad knaves of Bedlam, Fleet 
Street, Tower Street, and Whitechapel; crack 
me the crowns of the French knaves, pox on them, 
crack them; fight, by the Lord of Ludgate, fight 
my fine boy!" 

If the 'prentices of this neighborhood passed 
all bounds and put themselves in contempt of 
the law, they were near to a refuge — one of 
the strange places of sanctuary for people who 
were dodging creditors and bailiffs. Originally 
a respectable residence district, it had fallen 
into disrepute until it was as notorious as it 
was picturesque. 

1 Shoemaker's Holiday, Act I, scene i. 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 53 

Whitefriars, adjacent to the Temple, then well known 
as Alsatia, had at this time and for nearly a century after- 
wards, the privilege of a sanctuary, unless against the writ 
of the Lord Chief Justice or the Lords of the Privy Council. 
Indeed, as the place abounded with desperadoes of every 
description — bankrupt citizens, ruined gamesters, irre- 
claimable prodigals, desperate duellists, bra voes, homicides, 
and debauched profligates of every description, all leagued 
together to maintain the immunities of their asylum — 
it was both difficult and unsafe for the officers of the law to 
execute warrants emanating even from men of the highest 
authority, amongst men whose safety was inconsistent 
with warrants or authority of any kind. 1 

Even when, on occasions of great importance, 
the sheriff did force his way in with an armed 
posse, little was likely to come of it, as the word 
was passed along in plenty of time to forewarn the 
fugitive to change his hiding-place until the hurly- 
burly was over again. In the days of Shakespeare 
this quarter was not at its worst. In 1623, when 
the First Folio edition was printed, the name 
Alsatia appeared in a tract, and for the greater 
part of a century after the district thrived in its 
own peculiar way. In the latter eighteenth 
century Mitre Court, in the very midst of it, 
was the extremely respectable gathering-place of 
Dr. Johnson and his circle. 

1 Scott, The Fortunes of Nigel, Book I, chap. xvi. See also 
Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard, Epoch III, chap. viii. 



54 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

The procession toward Westminster passing 
down Fleet Street came next to 

those bricky towres 
The which on Temmes brode aged back doe ryde, 
Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers, 
There whilome wont the Templar Knights to byde 
Till they decayd through pride. 1 

The Temple, originally the establishment of 
the Templars, shortly after their downfall in 13 13, 
passed to the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, 
who rented the Outer Temple to an individual and 
the Inner and Middle to the students of the Com- 
mon Law. At the dissolution of the monasteries 
the leases were continued by the Crown, until 
toward the end of Shakespeare's life in the year 
of Milton's birth, 1608, James I granted the two 
temples to the Benchers of the Inns of Court 
and their successors forever. 

At the western limit of these precincts Temple 
Bar separated Fleet Street from the Strand, mak- 
ing the boundary of the land outside the walls 
which was still under control of the city. By an 
old custom a gate was always closed here when 
the Monarch wished to enter the city and opened 
only after the sounding of a trumpet, a parley, 
and the granting of permission by the Lord 

1 Spenser, "Prothalamion," 11. 132-36. 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 55 

Mayor. The gates are gone and the King today 
has equal privileges with his meanest subject, but 
on great state occasions the old ceremonial is still 
revived. 

The last stage of the state procession westward 
was by way of the Strand and Charing Cross 
through Whitehall to the Abbey. From the days 
of Henry VIII to those of William III, Whitehall 
was the Royal Palace turned to the uses of the 
Crown after it had been wrested from Cardinal 
Wolsey, who held it under the name of York 
House. One gets a vivid idea of what passed 
within and around it from an attentive reading 
of Scott's The Fortunes of Nigel. 1 That same 
combination of splendor and lack of finesse already 
noted is suggested by a curious catalogue which 
in describing it says that in the days of Henry VIII 
it contained a series of "galleries and courts, a 
large hall, a chapel, a tennis court, a cock pit, an 
orchard, and a banqueting-house." In the new 
banqueting-hall erected by King James in 1606, 
an ill-fated building which survived only eleven 
years, a masque of Ben Jonson's was presented on 
every succeeding Twelfth Night. The splendor 
of an Elizabethan masque is apparent from Robert 

1 The Fortunes of Nigel, Book I, chaps, v ff.; also Peveril of the 
Peak, Book II, chap. xiv. 



56 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Laneham's letter made familiar by Scott's use of 
it in describing the performance arranged by 
Leicester at Kenilworth during the progress of 
Queen Elizabeth in 1582. Another side of such 
a presentation is suggested by Busino's descrip- 
tion 1 of the Twelfth Night at Whitehall in 161 7- 
18. For hours the audience waited, until finally 
after ten o'clock the royal party appeared. The 
masque Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue began. "It 
were long to tell how Bacchus on a cart was fol- 
lowed by Silenus on a barrel and twelve wicker 
flasks who performed the most ludicrous antics." 
Twelve boys as pages followed, and were succeeded 
by twelve cavaliers in masks, who, on choosing 
partners, danced a most hilarious and individual 
succession of steps before the King. When they 
began to flag, James impatiently goaded them on, 
upon which "the Marquis of Buckingham .... 
immediately sprang forward cutting a score of 
lofty and very minute capers with such grace and 
agility that he not only appeased the ire of his 
angry sovereign, but moreover rendered himself 
the admiration and the delight of everybody." 
Descriptions of this sort reassure those readers of 
Scott who feel that he has presented the King 

1 Harrison, Description oj England, Forewords to Part II § 6, pp. 
57, 58, "New Shakespeare Society Publications," Series VI, 5, 8. 




London Bridge How Church 

The Standard 

Goldsmiths' Row 



PROCESSION OF EDWARD VI FROM THE TOWE1 

(From a print 




"1 

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Wj|i»wWW r " ,!, "' , >;. 




Cheapside: "The Beauty of London" St. Paul'i 

The Cross 



Ludgate Temple Bar 

Charing Cross 

Westminster 



TO WESTMINSTER, FEBRUAr V iq. iqh; 

of 1647) 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 57 

and "Steenie" and "Baby Charles" as much too 
far below the angels. 

Although the land route we have described 
was a famous line of travel from the Tower to 
Westminster, rather more people on ordinary 
occasions made their way up or down the river 
by boat. The streets, especially prepared on great 
days, were usually in pretty bad shape. The 
case of an official who was punished in the reign 
of Elizabeth for the defects in the highway between 
the Royal Exchange and Westminster ceases to 
be an impressive evidence of the scrupulous atten- 
tion paid to street cleaning and repairing when 
one reads that he received 313 stripes, one for 
each gully which crossed the streets in a distance 
of less than two miles. It is not surprising that 
under such circumstances vehicles were not 
generally used. Moreover, for foot passengers 
the streets were filthy beyond belief. As in 
Chaucer's day refuse was still suffered to accumu- 
late in the one central gutter; the odors arising 
therefrom mingled with those which were wafted 
from innumerable shops and kitchens; and, to 
cap all, the din of artisans, the bawling of shop- 
keepers, and the peals of a fair proportion of 
London's hundred and odd church bells assailed 
the long-suffering pedestrian. Often for purposes 



58 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

of ease, therefore, when the tide favored the 
direction of the wayfarer, and often for luxurious- 
ness and the picturesqueness of the route, the 
water course was chosen. 

The Thames in Shakespeare's day was a 
splendid stream, 1 of which one can get a fair idea 
from the drawings of Visscher and Hollar. It was 
a subject on which Elizabethans loved to dwell, 
the fairness of the water, the abundance of fish, 
and the beauty of the myriads of swans who 
floated upon it appealing to every eye. Thus 
Harrison in his England is not alone in his en- 
thusiasm as he writes: 

In like maner I could entreat of the infinit number of 
swans dailie to be sene upon this river, the two thousand 
wherries and small boats, whereby three thousand poore 
watermen are mainteined, through the carriage and recar- 
riage of such persons as passe or repasse from time to time 
upon the same! beside those huge tideboats, tiltbotes, and 
barges, which either carrie passengers, or bring necessarie 
provisien from all quarters of Oxfordshire, Barkeshire, 
Buckinghamshire, Bedfordshire, Hertfordshire, Middlesex, 
Essex, Surrie, and Kent, unto the citie of London. But 
.... I surceasse at this time to speake anie more of 
them here. 2 

1 See Spenser, "Prothalamion." 

2 Harrison, Description of England, 1587, Forewords to Part I; 
extracts from Book I, "New Shakespeare Society Publications," 
Series VI. 1, p. xxxvii. 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 59 

Above London Bridge the traffic was largely 
in passengers, but just below was the natural 
terminal for a large number of east-going ships. 
The great period of prosperity in ocean com- 
merce was no greater than it had been for genera- 
tions, though it involved business with European 
ports from the farthest ends of the Mediterranean 
to Scandinavia, as well as to the thrice-distant 
Orient in the days before the Suez Canal. In the 
Pool, as the harbor below the Bridge was called, 
a great fleet of sail was usually to be seen, and 
Billingsgate, not yet degenerated into a mere fish 
market, was the busiest of shipping-points. 

The prevalent combination of display and 
primitiveness appeared in the dwellings of the 
day. From the point of view of modern conven- 
iences the present generation even to the poorer 
classes would endure with impatience the con- 
ditions of the past. There were no such things 
as plumbing, proper disposal of waste, heating of 
whole houses, adequate ventilation. The accumu- 
lation of stale rushes on the floors was so noisome 
that perfumes were lavishly employed to drown 
the stench; yet at the same time a certain sump- 
tuousness in architecture was to be found not 
merely in the mansions of the ostentatious rich. 
The beauty of the palaces along the Thames and 



60 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

such houses as Crosby Hall is familiar enough, but 
in a lesser way here and there about the city there 
were many merchants' homes which in point of 
elaborateness of exterior were triumphant pieces 
of artistic display. 

In point of extravagance of dress, 1 though of 
course, it is the fashion of any age to consider 
itself a high standard from which to judge all 
others, it does seem today that the gorgeous 
ingenuity was almost beyond belief. An amus- 
ing protest against the importation of English 
fashions into America by Nathaniel Ward in 
1647 might lead one to believe that this was a 
mere Puritan objection to a natural desire for 
ornament, if the protests in England itself were 
not expressed with equal violence. The running 
marginal comments in Harrison's England upon 
this subject furnish sufficient evidence. 

Our fanciful interest in dress is astonishing — I cannot 
describe England's dress; first Spanish; then French; 
then German; then Turkish; then Barbaryan; they look 
as absurd as a dog in a doublet — how men and women 
worry the tailor and abuse him! then the trying on! we 
sweat till we drop to make our clothes fit — our hair we 

1 See Philip Stubbes, Anatomy of the Abuses in England in Shake- 
speare's Youth, 1583; chap, iii, "Men's Dress"; chap, iv, "Abuses 
of Womens Apparell," "New Shakespeare Society Publications," 
Series VI, 4, p. 6. 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 61 

poll or curl, wear long or cropt — some courtiers wear rings 
in their ears to improve God's work — women are far worse 
than men — God's good gifts are turned into wantonness." 1 

Says Portia of Falconbridge, the young baron of 
England, when she is discussing her various 
suitors: 

I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose 
in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behavior 
everywhere. 2 

More and more as one dwells on the picturesque 
details of social and literary history the idea is 
brought home that when all is said the most 
interesting of facts is to be discovered in the 
essential likeness between the past and the present. 
Invention has of course made enormous strides, 
contributing in its progress new words, metaphors, 
customs, and methods of life; but it has con- 
tributed few new ideas and few characteristics 
which were not to be found in human nature in 
the days before the flood. So when we come to 
the well-established generalizations about the days 
of Shakespeare and the London of Shakespeare 
the distinguishing features are in part obviously 
material, and in part mere differences in emphasis 

1 Harrison, Description of England, 1587, Book II, chap, vii, 
"New Shakespeare Society Publications," Series VI, 1. 
3 Merchant of Venice, Act I, scene ii. 



62 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

between that age and this. The most extrava- 
gant story that could be told as to the vogue of 
the London theater of 1600 would be pitifully 
put in the shade by the commonplace facts of 1900. 
Although bull-baiting and bear-baiting may no 
longer exist at the present time, the cock pit has 
not disappeared and the prize ring does its work 
in satisfying the savage instincts of one type of 
sportsman. Elizabethan elegance in architecture 
and in dress have been dwelt on with great satis- 
faction by modern writers, who are in danger of 
overlooking in the present some features which 
they can see very clearly through the vista of the 
centuries. Possibly the men of today are less 
gorgeous in their dress than Raleigh and his 
friends, but the protests of press and pulpit at 
the reign of the modern milliner and modiste are 
as vehement as anything that can be educed from 
the records of the past. Moreover, the drain on 
the pocket-book caused by such indulgences or 
brought about by the cost of the ordinary com- 
modities, makes one sometimes assume that the 
high cost of living is a modern invention; but 
even here the Elizabethans can claim precedence. 
Tariff, rents, and the cost of labor were a constant 
source of distress. The more one contemplates 
Elizabeth's period the more complicated the view 



SHAKESPEARE'S LONDON 63 

becomes, but in the last analysis all the impres- 
sions can be classified under two heads: the 
striking contrasts between the externals of then 
and now, and the startling proofs of identity in 
the character of that age and of this. 



Illustrative Readings 

Biography and Social History 

Besant, Walter, London in the Time of the Tudors. 

Furnivall, F. J., Shakespeare: Life and Work. 

Jusserand, J. J., The English Novel in the Time of 
Shakespeare. 

Ordish, T. F., Shakespeare 's London. 

Stephenson, H. T., Shakespeare' 1 s London. 
Contemporary Satire and Description 

Dekker, Thomas, Guls Horne-booke; The Bellman of 
London. Good reprint in "Temple Classics". 

Harrison, William, Description of England, Parts 1 
and 2. "New Shakespeare Society publica- 
tions," Series VI. 

Spenser, Edmund, "Prothalamion." 

Stubbes, Philip, Anatomy of Abuses in England. 

Satirical Songs and Poems on Costume (Seventeenth 
Century, pp. 96-202), "Percy Society Publica- 
tions," London, 1849, Vol. XXVII. 

The Walk in Powles, or Meeting of Gallants at an 
Ordinary, "Percy Society Publications," London, 
1841, Vol. V. 



64 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Fiction (For detailed content of novels, see appendix 
on illustrative fiction.) 
Ainsworth, W. H., The Constable of the Tower; The 

Tower of London. 
James, G. P. R., Darnley. 
Scott, Sir Walter, Kenilworth; Fortunes of Nigel. 

Drama 

Beaumont and Fletcher, The Knight of the Burning 

Pestle (1610-11). 
Cooke, John, Greene's Tu Quoque, or The Citie Gallant 

(1614). 

Dekker, Thomas, The Shoemaker's Holiday (1600); 

Seven Deadly Sins of London (1606). 
Dekker and Middleton, The Roaring Girl (161 1). 
Greene, Robert, A Looking Glass for London and 

England (1589). 
Heywood, Thomas, The Four Prentices of London 

(1615); // You Know Me Not (1605); The Fair 

Maid of the Exchange (1607). 
Jonson, Ben, Every Man in His Humour (1598); 

Every Man Out of His Humour (1599); The Tale 

of a Tub (1603-4); The Silent Woman (1609); 

The Alchemist (1610); Batholomew Fair (1614); 

The Devil Is an Ass (161 6); Christmas His 

Masque. 
Middleton, Thomas, Michaelmas Term (1607); 

Chaste Maid in Cheapside (pr. 1630). 
Webster, John, and Marston, John, The Malcontent. 

(1604). 




ENTRANCE OF (FRENCH) QUEEN MOTHER TO 
From an engraving by De-la Sarre, 




LONDON IN 1638— PASSING THROUGH CHEAPSIDE 
French historiographer, 1639 



CHAPTER III 
MILTON'S LONDON 

There is no century in English history in which 
some clear understanding of the political affairs 
is more necessary to an intelligent appreciation 
of the literature than the seventeenth. A clean 
swath of civil conflict was cut across the two 
mid-decades; and all that either preceded or 
followed them must be known in the light of 
these years of strife. Hence it is necessary to 
pay more attention to the history of this than of 
any other period. If the present chapter is out 
of scale or harmony with the others in this volume, 
the reason for such a fault originates in history 
and not in the student who attempts to write 
about it. 

Shakespeare's dates were 1 564-161 6; Milton's 
1608-1674. In Shakespeare's day London en- 
joyed a period of courtly splendor and opulence. 
Elizabeth was a spectacular monarch; she sur- 
rounded herself with people after her own heart. 
But she was also an astute monarch; and this 
she demonstrated by the success with which she 
maintained England's dignity among the nations, 

65 



66 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

and postponed the imminent civil conflict which 
came to a head soon after her death. It threatened 
loudly while James was on the throne ; it came to a 
climax with the death of Charles I. After eleven 
years of unrest the Commonwealth was over- 
thrown by a retrogressive revolution which re- 
stored the crown to the Stuarts in the person of 
Charles II; and the whole series of events cul- 
minating in the unholy triumph of Puritanism 
and reaching its catastrophe in the still more 
unholy return of the Court, was witnessed and 
promoted and deplored by John Milton. 

Furthermore, in a limited degree the history 
of these two generations is reflected in little in 
his own career. For in many respects he was up 
to 1640 a belated Elizabethan, without question 
he was a Cromwellian for the next twenty years, 
and from 1660 to the end of his life he was the 
sternly undefeated champion of a lost cause. So, 
too, the whole history of the time is recorded in a 
series of brilliant tableaux which were enacted in 
his own home city. The London which enjoyed 
the masques of his young manhood, and wondered 
at the ecclesiastical zeal of Laud, and shuddered 
at the executions of Strafford and Charles, and 
witnessed with doubts and misgivings the sessions 
of the Short and Long and Rump parliaments, 



MILTON'S LONDON 67 

and submitted to the two Cromwells, and exulted 
in the return of Monarchy in '60, and survived 
the Plague and the Fire in '66 — this London is 
surely not without its own character and interest 
for the student of literary history. 

In this growing town, for much of the time 
within the limits of the original city, Milton lived 
in no less than eleven houses. He was born, and 
dwelt until he was fifteen years old, in Bread 
Street, just off Cheapside almost under the shad- 
ow of St. Paul's. After his university career and 
his life on the Continent, he moved to St. Bride's 
Churchyard, on the Strand; 1 next to two succes- 
sive houses near Aldersgate; then to Holborn, a 
half-mile west beyond Newgate; farther, in a 
series of rapid changes, to Whitehall, West- 
minster, twice more near Aldersgate, once again 
on Holborn, and finally at Artillery Walk, just 
outside Moorgate. 

Like many another man who has risen to 
eminence, he was in his youth a battle-ground of 
sternly competing influences. His religious par- 
ents hoped that he might develop into a life of 
rich service in the church. Yet in his father was 
engrained a love of music, and an appreciation of 

1 The St. Bride's Church of Milton's youth was destroyed by 
the fire of 1666. The present St. Bride's (see cut opposite p. 120), 
was completed shortly after Milton's death. 



68 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the arts which were quite out of harmony with 
strictest Puritanism. To a generation which 
assumes that truth and beauty are at one in their 
higher manifestations, the evidences of what was 
a real conflict in Milton seem almost negligible. 
In random passages scattered throughout his 
works he has told his story according to a practice 
not infrequent among story-tellers; so, though 
it is John the Baptist who speaks, these lines may 
be taken as autobiography: 

When I was yet a child, no childish play 
To me was pleasing; all my mind was set 
Serious to learn and know, and thence to do 
What might be public good; myself I thought 
Born to that end, born to promote all truth, 
All righteous things. 1 

Self-schooled in self-analysis of this sort, it is not 
surprising that at the age of twenty-three he 
grieved over his thus far wasted life and resolved 
to live "as ever in my great Task-Master's eye." 2 
The death a few years later of his beloved friend 
Edward King moved him to one of the most 
stirring invectives ever launched at the established 
church. To one-half England these were delight- 
ful sentiments, but this half of England could 

1 Paradise Regained, Book I, 11. 201-6. 

2 Milton's sonnet " On His Having Arrived at the Age of Twenty- 
three." 



MILTON'S LONDON 69 

not take unqualified pleasure in Milton, for in 
"L'Allegro" and "II Penseroso," 1 which belong 
to the same general period of waxing maturity, 
when Milton referred to the church, he did it to 
record his pleasure, not in the lining-out of 
psalms or in the homiletics of hell-fire, but to 
recall his enjoyment of the "dim, religious light" 
that filled the richly decorated Gothic pile in 
which the most attractive of ceremonials was the 
wedding service. He invoked the gentler con- 
jurations of music, and dwelt, in imagination at 
least, not only on tragedy as it was appearing on 
a degenerating stage, but on Ben Jonson's come- 
dies and the pastorals of Shakespeare as well. 

His interest in the stage, moreover, was not 
limited to speculation alone — Arcades and Comus 
in proof. Strange to relate, the coming Latin 
Secretary to Oliver Cromwell was actually a 
writer of masques— collaborator with Henry 
Lawes, composer, and other unreligious aids. 
Comus is an especially significant straw in the 
rising wind. The charm of the production as it 
was presented must have depended very greatly 
on the beauty of the music and the tableaux, and, 
as far as Milton's share was concerned, on those in- 
troductory and connecting passages which formed 

1 "L'Allegro," 11. 117-50; "II Penseroso," II. 97-105, 155-66. 



70 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

a setting for the tedious casuistry of Comus and 
The Lady. For the thesis of this masque as a 
whole was painfully improving, the application 
of the text most laborious, and The Lady a female 
who, for rigid, angular unamiability masquerading 
in the role of virgin loveliness, is hard to match in 
literature. Yet the evidence of the real dis- 
crepancy between what this masque was con- 
ventionally supposed to be doing and what it 
must have achieved is a clear index to what was 
going on in the mind of a young man who was 
sharing with his generation the conflict between 
a wanton liberality which had belonged to the 
past, and a no less wanton straitness of bigotry 
which was the threat of the immediate future. 

See how striking was the progress of events 
in the year or two before the production of Comus 
in September, 1634. 

For a generation Puritan opposition to the 
drama had been growing in weight and strength, 
the theater during these years naturally increas- 
ing in hostility to its enemies. Early in 1633 the 
struggle became more bitter than ever because 
of the appearance of an extraordinary book by 
one William Prynne, an Utter Barrister of 
Lincoln's Inn. Its title is too long to print in 
full, but the purport of it may be gathered from 



MILTON'S LONDON 71 

these gleanings: "Histrio-Mastix: The Player's 
Scourge, or Actor's Tragoedie .... wherein it 

is largely evidenced That Popular Stage 

Plays (the very pomps of the Divell . . . .) are 
sinful, heathenish, lewd, ungodly spectacles . . . . ; 
and that the profession of Play-Poets or Stage- 
Players .... are unlawful, infamous and mis- 
beseeming Christians. All pretences to the con- 
trary are here likewise fully answered, and the 
unlawfulness of acting or beholding academical 

Interludes briefly discussed " Under this 

enormous name many sins were committed. 
Playwrights and actors were offended, royalty 
affronted, and members of the Inns of Court more 
or less outraged because one of their own num- 
ber had had the temerity not only to perpetrate 
the book but to dedicate it to the Benchers of 
Lincoln's Inn. 

There was a great deal of time and talk wasted 
before, in November, ten months after this 
literary explosion, the principal members of the 
Society of the four Inns of Court (Lincoln's, 
Gray's, the Middle and the Inner Temples) 
joined together to produce if possible the most 
completely splendid masque ever staged in Eng- 
land. It seems to have turned out so. It was 
three months in preparation; it was produced 



72 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

under and by the most skilled antiquarians, 
artists, poets, musicians, singers, dancers, and 
actors to be found anywhere; it was preceded by 
a street pageant from the Temple to Whitehall 
so gorgeous that the King and Queen must needs 
have it "fetch a turn round the tilt yard that 
they might see it all again." The Triumph of 
Peace was an intricately elaborate combination 
of pure allegory and social satire. What between 
Peace and Law and Justice and Genius, Opinion 
and Fancy who interpreted them, a succession 
of comic anti-masques, and the ultimately appro- 
priate appearance of the Dawn, "this earthly 
group and glory, if not vanity [was] soon past, 
over and gone, as if it had never been." 1 A week 
after the first performance before the Court at 
Whitehall, it was given at the Merchants' Hall 
in the city under the patronage of the Lord Mayor. 
And a week after that, again at Whitehall, the 
hardly less splendid Coelum Brittanicum was put 
on. Thus was Prynne given the retort courteous. 
Moreover, the powers were not content simply 
with theatrical vindications of their rights. They 
set out to punish as well as to rebuke offenders, 
and in the catalogue of offenders they were dis- 

1 It cost £21,000, equivalent in purchasing power today to 
£50,000, or a quarter of a million dollars. See Masson, Life of Mil- 
ton, in Connection with the History of His Times, I, 580-87. 



MILTON'S LONDON 73 

posed to include all opponents or dissenters to 
the reign of "Thorough" which Charles now 
instituted. To carry out his policies he had three 
stern and able men. The young Marquis of 
Hamilton represented him in Scotland; Went- 
worth, Earl of Strafford to be, governed Ireland 
with consummate skill and power; and Laud, 
the now spectacular Archbishop of Canterbury, 
was the right-hand man in England. Against 
dangerous men of special eminence this Prelate 
carried on a vindictive campaign. Prynne, the 
author of Histrio-Mastix, had his ears clipped on 
the public pillory, and then, still indomitable, lost 
the pitiful remnants of them and was branded 
on the cheeks "S. L." (Seditious Libeler). His 
revenge was to come. Bishop Williams of 
Lincoln, indiscreet even after his removal from 
power, was next fined a fortune and imprisoned 
at the King's pleasure, and mulcted of eight 
thousand pounds more for receiving without 
protest letters which referred to Laud as "the 
little vermin" and "the urchin." At the same 
time Puritan laymen, church wardens, itinerant 
lecturers, parish ministers, and curates — whoever 
in position of trust or authority deviated from the 
strict discipline of the established church — were 
shorn of power and subjected to fine or imprison- 



74 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

ment. And finally a sort of guerilla warfare was 
carried on with the "ineradicable nests of Separa- 
tists sheltered in the recesses of London." 

It is evident enough that this sort of game 
could not be played indefinitely. Sooner or later 
troubles were bound to gather round the head 
that wore the crown. Charles after more than 
eleven years of autocratic rule, began to feel the 
ground slipping from under him so perilously 
that in the spring of 1640 he reluctantly called a 
Parliament. He wanted twelve subsidies, but, 
as they obstinately preferred to discuss their 
country's grievances, after three weeks of dead- 
lock he sent them to their homes. This desperate 
expedient soon turned out to be by no means a 
wise one; the Gordian knot was too tough even 
for such a stroke. The members of Parliament 
were not to be mocked by wanton assemblings 
and premature adjournments; they were to con- 
vene on their own call and to sit till their business 
was accomplished. Moreover, they were to deter- 
mine what that business should be. And the 
needs of the nation, said Parliament, demanded 
the death of Wentworth, Earl of Strafford — the 
man, it was felt, in whom, more than in any other, 
was the source of danger to come. Strafford, 1 

1 For a vivid dramatic account of his last days read Browning's 
tragedy, Strafford. 



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W — 



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MILTON'S LONDON 75 

foreseeing what was imminent, came with mis- 
givings to London on the King's guaranty "that 
not a hair of his head should be touched." Almost 
immediately, however, he was imprisoned in the 
Tower, and then after five months, beginning 
in March, 1640-41, there followed the trial which 
was one of the most dramatic episodes enacted 
in Westminster Hall. 

It was a royal stage for the enactment of a 
regal tragedy. The Hall was first built by William 
Rufus, son of the Conqueror. After a disastrous 
fire three centuries later, it was remodeled and 
enlarged during the closing years of Chaucer's life. 
Under its rafters had echoed the death sentences of 
William Wallace, Sir Thomas More, Lord Cobham, 
and Guy Fawkes. Here Cromwell, clothed in 
purple, scepter and Bible in hand, was to be 
declared Protector. Here, centuries later, Warren 
Hastings was to be acquitted; and from here 
within this same decade Charles was to follow 
Strafford to the executioner's block. 

Picture the great stage at one end, furnishing 
a green-covered background for the Peers who 
sat as his judges in crimson and ermine; trellised 
rooms behind for the King and Queen and Ladies 
of the Court; the black-garbed prisoner in the 
middle of the Hall; and long tiers of lengthwise 



76 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

seats filled with onlooking members of the House 
of Commons. Still as in the Courts of Elizabeth 
and James there was a strange commingling of 
gravity and indecorum. 

Oft great clamour without about the doors. In the 
intervals, while Strafford was making ready for answers, 
the Lords got always to their feet, walked and clattered — 
the Lower House men too loud clattering; after ten hours 
much public eating, not only of confections but of flesh 
and bread — bottles of beer and wine going thick from 
mouth to mouth without cups; and all this in the King's 
eye. 1 

The days wore on, toward the luckless prisoner's 
doom. Royal assurances were not fulfilled with 
royal fidelity. Charles, no weakling on many 
occasions, yielded this time to popular pressure. 

The King was sorry; 'tis no shame in him; 
Yes, you may say he even wept, Balfour, 
And that I walked the lighter to the block 
Because of it. 2 

So on Wednesday, the 12th of May, "that proud 
curly head, the casket of that brain of power, rolled 
on the scaffold on Tower Hill." 

It was the beginning of the King's downfall. 
Before long he was at such loggerheads with 
Parliament that within a year the civil war was 

1 Quoted in Masson, Life of Milton, II, p. 180. 
- Browning, Strafford, Act V, scene ii, 11. 200-203. 



MILTON'S LONDON 77 

on. By 1646 he had taken refuge with the Scots, 
a refuge that soon resolved itself into a captivity 
from which he was never to be freed. He was 
with the Scots seven months and with the English 
two years as a royal prisoner before finally the 
trial was begun. Then again Westminster Hall 
was used. He who might have saved the life of 
Strafford could not save his own. It was in vain 
that he refused to accept the authority of the 
Court and that he attempted to speak when 
sentence had been pronounced. A scant week 
after he had impatiently heard the charges filed 
against him, he was hustled by the guards away 
to Whitehall and thence to St. James across the 
narrow Park. Three days later he walked back 
to Whitehall Banquet House and stepped from 
an enlarged window onto the platform where he 
surrendered his life. 

So England became a republic, passing into a 
new era quite as troublous as that which she had 
just survived. Cromwell worked indefatigably 
with the Council of State and the little Rump 1 
Parliament, until he was forced to carry on the 

'"Right, knave," he said, "I taste thy jest Faustus 

raised the devil as the Parliament raised the army, and then, as the 
devil flies away with Faustus, so will the army fly away with the 
Parliament, or the rump as thou call'st it, or sitting part of the 
so-called Parliament." — Scott, Woodstock, chap, xviii. 



78 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

government almost single-handed. The young 
Charles was awkwardly successful in making 
friends. Proclamations of his succession to the 
Crown were read in Scotland and Ireland, and 
until he was invited to leave, his own court was 
for a while assembled at The Hague. A heavy 
fusillade of controversial pamphlets beclouded the 
air, Milton serving as literary champion of the 
Regicides, and replying to Eikon Basilike with his 
Eikonoklastes and to Salmasius' Dejensio Regis 
with Pro Populo Anglicano Dejensio. 

For the disorder and actual lawlessness of the 
times Macaulay has entered a contrite plea of 
"Guilty": 1 

Major-generals fleecing their districts; soldiers revel- 
ling on the spoils of a ruined peasantry; upstarts, enriched 
by the public plunder, taking possession of the hospitable 
firesides and the hereditary trees of the old gentry; boys 
smashing the beautiful windows of cathedrals; Quakers 
riding naked through the market-place; Fifth-monarchy 
men shouting for King Jesus ; agitators lecturing from the 
tops of tubs on the fate of Agag: all these, they tell us, 
were the offspring of the Great Rebellion. 

These were expressions of religious fanaticism 
venting itself against its enemies in the very hour 

1 This is in the "Essay on Milton," of which the latter half is 
especially interesting. In connection with this period his essays on 
Hampden and Bunyan are also valuable. 



MILTON'S LONDON 79 

of victory; but on the other hand this fanaticism 
was no less vigorous in its discipline of the victors. 

Though the discipline of the church was at an end, 
there was nevertheless an uncommon spirit of devotion 
among people in the parliament quarters; the Lord's day 
was observed with remarkable strictness, the churches 
being crowded with numerous and attentive hearers three 
or four times in the day; the officers of the peace patrolled 
the streets, and shut up all publick houses; there was no 
travelling on the road, or walking in the fields, except in 
cases of absolute necessity. Religious exercises were 
set up in private families, as reading the Scriptures, 
family prayer, repeating sermons, and singing of psalms 
which was so universal, that you might walk through the 
city of London on the evening of the Lord's day without 
seeing an idle person, or hearing anything but the voice 
of prayer or praise from churches and private houses. 
. . . . There were no gaming-houses, or houses of pleasure; 
no profane swearing, drunkenness, or any kind of de- 
bauchery. 1 

The exalted vision that Milton had seen as early 
as 1644 must have seemed doubly assured in 
these years of triumph. 

Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant nation 
rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking 
her invincible locks : methinks I see her as an eagle mewing 
her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the 
full midday beam; purging and unsealing her long abused 

1 Neal, History of the Puritans, II, 553, 555. 



8o LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

sight at the fountain itself of heavenly radiance; while the 
whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with those also 
that love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what she 
means, and in their envious gabble w r ould prognosticate a 
year of sects and schisms. 1 

Discontent increased steadily as the years 
wore on, the original adherents of the dead King 
gaining in power as the fear grew that the Rebel- 
lion had accomplished nothing more than the 
substitution of a Cromwell for a Stuart dynasty. 
Something even more unsatisfactory than that, 
however, was the real result; for England to her 
dismay found, in '58 and '59, after the death of the 
great Protector, that anarchy under Richard 
Cromwell was much less tolerable than despotism 
under Oliver. Those were days that tried men's 
souls. Some were in despair at the failure of the 
Commonwealth, some in an agony of hope that 
young Charles might be restored to his throne, 
and many in an ecstasy of doubt as to silence or 
speech, and as to what to say if speak they must. 
It is not a proud chapter in English literature 
which the poets of these years contributed. 2 
William Davenant, Laureate up to 1649, wrote 
a ponderous greeting upon "his Sacred Majesty's 

1 Milton, "Areopagitica." 

2 See illustrative readings at the ends of chaps, iii and iv. 



MILTON'S LONDON 81 

most happy return," of which the worst that can 
be said is that it is prosily sincere. Abraham 
Cowley, who had apparently reconciled himself 
to the subverted order of things, was laboriously 
lavish in his joy. But Edmund Waller and John 
Dry den were guilty of noisy effusions in spite of 
the fact that both of them had printed similar 
flatteries of Cromwell not long before. These 
wielders of the pen seemed to be able to clear off 
old scores rather easily. For the unliterary the 
job was not always so simple. The fears of 
Samuel Pepys lest some of his own past indis- 
cretions should be quoted against him were 
doubtless the fears of hundreds of others who left 
behind them no such record as his fascinating 
diary. 1 

It is a strange contrast with the last hours of 
Charles I which is provided by the splendid return 
of his son in 1660. For more than twenty miles 
through the countryside the road to London was 
lined with shouting multitudes "one continued 
street wonderfully inhabited." 2 At Blackheath 
fifty thousand soldiers greeted the King, and 
nearer the riverside the Lord Mayor and the city 
fathers. The entrance through the City followed 

1 Pepys' Diary, November i, 1660. 

2 The last chapter of Scott's Woodstock contains a description of 
this return. 



82 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the familiar course across the Bridge, up Bishops- 
gate Street, and through Cheapside to Fleet 
Street, Temple Bar, and the Strand, ending finally 
at Whitehall, where, in that very Banquet House 
before which his father had lost his life, the houses 
of Parliament were now assembled to do honor to 
the son. 

Yet now, as always, the silver-lined cloud was 
black beneath. If the trial of the elder Charles 
was, in its kindest aspect, the expression of a sort 
of desperate hysteria consecrated to a holy cause, 
the treatment of the regicides was horribly vin- 
dictive. Strange the reasonings which led to the 
deaths of many; awful the indignities and the 
tortures with which they were ushered out of life. 
Quixotic the arguments which led to the immu- 
nity of others; most marvelous of all the total 
escape of that blackest of rebels, John Milton. 
The escapes, however, were negative affairs. The 
trials and executions were positive and gruesomely 
spectacular events. It is a comparatively modern 
piece of social restraint which seeks to take 
life painlessly where life must be taken, and 
which conceals even the abbreviated spectacle of 
hanging or electrocution from the eyes of the 
curious and the morbid. 

With these formalities over, came the corona- 



MILTON'S LONDON 83 

tion, April 23, 1661, King Charles and St. George 
totally eclipsing the memory of Shakespeare, 
whose birthday it was. This was modern Eng- 
land; or rather on this recurrent occasion modern 
England still observes the traditions of the past. 
As far as the processions and ceremonies are con- 
cerned, out-of-door backgrounds excluded, photo- 
graphs of the coronations of Edward VII or 
George V would give a reasonably approximate 
idea of what happened on that day. Charles 
in crimson velvet and ermine, the gorgeous crowd 
marshaled in Westminster Abbey, the rites per- 
formed by Dean, Bishops, and Archbishop con- 
tributed to a series of radiant pictures. 

Of the kneelings and other religious services of prayer 
and song that followed, and the kissing of the Bishops by 
the King, and the homagings to the King by the Bishops 
and the Peers, and the changes of place and posture in 
the Abbey, and the proclamation of the King's general 
pardon by Lord Chancellor Clarendon and heralds, and 
the flinging of gold and silver medals about by the Treas- 
urer of the Household .... and the music from violins 
and other instruments by performers in scarlet with the 
bangs from the drums and the blasts from the trumpets, the 
reckoning becomes incoherent. People were tired of these 
fag-ends, and longed to be out of the Abbey. 1 

What happened in the next few years is familiar 
enough. The new King had none of the private 

1 Masson, Life of Milton, VI, 158. 



84 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

virtues of Charles I, and little of his strength. 
His own influence, unsupplemented by the general 
reaction against Cromwellian days, would have 
gone far toward debauching the court. It is a 
mistake to foster the idea that the vices of those 
days have passed from the earth, or England, or 
London. But it is not too much to say that, 
under royal auspices, vice and vicious luxury 
have seldom flourished more arrogantly than at 
that time. No wonder then that Milton, "old, 
poor, sightless, disgraced," pictured himself in 
Paradise Lost and Samson Agonistes. When he 
gloried in 

A mind not to be changed by place or time, 1 

and asked 

What matter where, if I be still the same ? 2 

he was writing, in stern defiance, two mottoes for 
himself. And in something approaching despair 
he dictated not of Samson alone: 

Promise was that I 
Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver; 
Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him 
Eyeless, in Gaza, at the mill, with slaves, 
Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke. 3 

1 Paradise Lost, 1. 253. 

2 Ibid., 1. 256. 

3 Samson Agonistes, 11. 3S-42. 



MILTON'S LONDON 85 

From this time on, as completely as man 
could, Milton withdrew from contact with men 
and affairs. Yet it is difficult to believe that even 
now he was writing without reference to the 
court when he dictated 

where the noise 
Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers 
And injury and outrage; and when night 
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons 
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. 

This, however, is the dark side of the picture. It 
could be dwelt on at length, and must be referred 
to in a later chapter. When we do return to it, 
it becomes interesting no longer as a political 
matter; for, though intensely exciting times were 
still to come, the social and artistic life of London 
emerged from now on to a state of independence 
where it may be regarded as an index which can 
be read without direct reference to statesman, 
warrior, or priest. 

Now suddenly came the last great plague 
from which London was ever to suffer. The 
horrors of it are vividly described by Defoe in 
his Journal of the Plague Year. 1 From the first 

1 The fact that this was not an actual journal detracts little from 
the value of the work. Defoe was a Londoner, five or six years old 
at the time, and thus near enough to have drawn much material 
from those who survived the plague. There is, moreover, abundant 
evidence that he resorted to authoritative records. 



86 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

beginnings in the winter of 1664-65 the dread 
disease made steady inroads, taking off increasing 
numbers from the original parishes to the north- 
west of the City, and spreading continually to 
wider areas. As summer approached the panic 
became general. The well to do were, of course, 
the first to flee. 

Indeed, nothing was to be seen but waggons and carts, 
with goods, women, servants, children, etc.; coaches 
filled with people of the better sort, and horsemen attend- 
ing them, and all hurrying away. 1 

At the end of June minute directions concerning 
the care of the sick and dead, the cleaning of the 
streets, and the assembling of people were issued 
by the Lord Mayor. 2 Then as always the less 
serious-minded were so far from realizing how 
dire were their straits that certain regulations 
of a most surprising sort were made necessary. 
"Plays, bear-baitings, games, singing of ballads, 
buckler-play" were specifically prohibited, as were 
also, and not with entire success, public dinners 
and "disorderly tippling in taverns, ale-houses, 
coffee-houses, and cellars." In mid- July 700 
died of the plague in one week. By the end of 
August the weekly mortality was over 6,000, and 
the first week in September nearly 7,000. 

1 Defoe, History of the Plague, Bohn ed., p. 6. 

2 Ibid., pp. 29-36. 



MILTON'S LONDON 87 

One result of such wholesale ravage was the 
complete demoralization of all who are ordinarily 
held in check by law or by public opinion. The 
practice of shameless quackery was accompanied 
by outrages on the part of nurses and caretakers, 
the pillaging of the dead, and the looting of 
abandoned houses and shops. Terror made men 
mad. Now and then acts of unselfish charity 
were recorded, but so seldom that they stand out 
in pathetic solitude. 

Among other stories one was very passionate me- 
thought of the child of a very able citizen in Gracious 
Street, a saddler, who had buried all the rest of his children 
of the plague, and himself and wife now being shut up 
and in despair of escaping, did devise only to save the life 
of this little child; and so prevailed to have it received 
stark naked into the arms of a friend who brought it 
(having put it into new fresh clothes) to Greenwich; 
where upon hearing the story we did agree it should 
be permitted to be received and kept in town. 1 

By the middle of September there was some 
abatement, which with slight fluctuations con- 
tinued steadily until almost a year had elapsed, 
when in mid-May of 1666 the report for the week 
was only 53 deaths from the Plague. Even in 

1 Pepys' Diary, September 3, 1665. This is subject of a painting 
by Florence Reason, reproduced in Hutchings, London Past and 
Present, Vol. I, opposite p. 12. 



8S LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

August it was not yet rooted out. It held on till 
September of the second year, and then on the 
second day of the month — as if poor London had 
not suffered enough — there came a new affliction. 

This was the great Fire, which within four days' 
time almost blotted out the old London inside the 
walls. Milton had escaped the Plague by taking 
refuge at Chalfont St. Giles, in the county of 
Bucks. It was a matter of physical expediency 
which he seems to have regarded as incidental 
though necessary, for he was more interested in 
"things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme" 
than in London's vicissitudes. Apparently he 
completed Paradise Lost and made a beginning of 
Paradise Regained during these very months. 
He returned to town before the Fire, yet he was 
spared immediate loss from this by the location 
of his residence at Artillery Walk, Bunhill fields, 
a few hundred yards north of Moorgate. Again 
his failure to "use" this striking calamity in any 
literary way emphasizes how completely remote 
he was from the objective affairs of his neighbors. 
"Plague and fire, what were they, after the ruin 
of the noblest of causes ?" 

The conflagration began on a Sunday night at 
Pudding Lane, in what was then East London, 
and was not stopped until four days later, when it 







milt 



Mini*'.. JJ- ! i-»!,j?5,> j 

HUM 



MILTON'S LONDON 89 

had consumed 436 acres, on which stood four City 
gates, eighty-nine churches, and 13,200 houses. 
By the second night, John Evelyn recorded, 1 the 
flames had reached St. Paul's, and were feeding 
on the scaffolds that he and other members of a 
commission had caused to be erected. Only six 
days before they had discussed a plan for complete 
repairs and alterations. Now the people were 
so overcome by despair that they made no intelli- 
gent effort to save homes or goods. Authorities 
were considering whether to pull down or blow 
up buildings in the path of the flames, while 
the distracted property-owners "hardly stirr'd to 
quench [them], so that there was nothing heard 
or seene but crying out and lamentation." The 
demon was now progressing with mad fury, 

for ye heat with a long set of faire and warm weather had 
even ignited the aire and prepar'd the materials to con- 
ceive the fire, which devour'd after an incredible manner 
houses, furniture, and every thing. Here we saw the 
Thames cover'd with goods floating, all the barges and 
boates laden with what some had time and courage to 
save, as, on ye other, ye carts &c. carrying out to the 
fields, which for many miles were strew'd with moveables 
of all sorts, and tents erecting to shelter both people and 
what goods they could get away. Oh the miserable and 
and calamitous spectacle! such as happly the world had 

1 See John Evelyn's Diary, September 3-10, 1666. 



go LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

not secne since the foundation of it, nor be outclon till 
the universal conflagration thereof. All the side was of a 
fiery aspect, like the top of a burning oven, and the light 

seene above 40 miles round about for many nights 

Thus I left it this afternoone burning, a resemblance of 

Sodom, or the last day London was, but is no 

more! 

Thus was devastated a vast acreage from which 
the tottering ruins were not all cleared away for 
two years. Evelyn, ever ready in scheming public 
projects, "presented his Majesty with a survey 
of the ruins, and a plot for a new City," 1 while the 
ashes were yet hot. Sir Christopher Wren was 
not far behind with another. The difficulty of 
adjudicating property rights, and the consequent 
failure to adopt either plan, resulted in a preserva- 
tion of the old street lines; and on these, with 
the exception of the most extensive buildings, the 
City was substantially re-erected within four years. 

The old London and the new; streets dating 
from almost immemorial times, flanked by build- 
ings more beautiful and commodious than of 
yore; old parishes with new meeting-houses; 
old superstitions holding over into a new and 
more sophisticated age ; staid and sober Londoners 
still possessed of their old Puritanism, mourning 
the glory of the days gone by. By 1674 Milton's 
London was a thing of the past. 

'See cut on p. 283. 



MILTON'S LONDON 91 

Illustrative Readings 

Biography and Social History 

Carlyle, Thomas, Cromwell's Letters and Speeches. 

Macaulay, Thomas B., Essays on Milton, Hampden, 
and Bunyan. 

Masson, David, Life of Milton, in Connection with 
the History of the Times. 

Evelyn, John, Diary up to 1660. 

Pepys, Samuel, Diary, 1660-61 and 1665-66. 

Wheatley, H. B., Samuel Pepys and the World He 
Lived In (chap, vi, "London"). 
Contemporary Occasional Poems 

Cowley, Abraham, "Ode upon His Majesty's Restora- 
tion and Return," i, 179; "A Poem on the Late 
Civil War," i, 328; "A Discourse, by Way of 
Vision, concerning the Government of Oliver 
Cromwell," ii, 209. 

Milton, John, "To the Lord General Cromwell," 
v, 178. 

Sprat, Dr. Thomas, "To the Happy Memory of the 
Late Lord Protector," ix, 149-62. 

Waller, Edmund, "On His Majesty's Repairing of 
St. Paul's," viii, 25; "A Panegyric to My Lord 
Protector," viii, 134; "Upon the Death of the 
Lord Protector," viii, 145; "To the King upon 
His Majesty's Happy Return," viii, 146. 
Contemporary Satire and Description 

Cowley, Abraham, "The Puritan and the Papist. A 

Satire," i, 343- 
Denham, Sir John, "Coopers Hill" (passage on St. 
Paul's), 11, 19-38; ix, 8. 



92 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Political Ballads, Published in England during the 

Commonwealth, "Percy Society Publications," 

Vol. I, 1841. 
Milton, John, "L'Allegro" and "II Penseroso." 
Prynne, William, Histrio-Mastix, The Player's Scourge. 
Waller, Edmund, "On St. James's Park as Lately 

Improved by His Majesty," viii, 150; "On 

Statue of Charles I at Charing Cross in 1674," 

viii, 237. 
(References above are to Johnson's British Poets: 

1779-81.) 
Fiction (For detailed content of novels see Appendix 
on illustrative fiction.) 
Ainsworth, W. H., St. Paul's. 
Defoe, Daniel, Journal of the Plague Year. 
Harvey, Gideon, Narrative of the Great and Terrible 

Fire, Printed from City Remembrances (Bohn ed. 

of Defoe). 
Scott, Walter, Peveril of the Peak; Woodstock. 
Smith, Horace, Brambletye House. 

Drama 

Brome, Richard, Covent Garden Weeded (1659); 

A Jovial Crew (1652); A Mad Couple Well 

Matched (1653). 
Browning, Robert, Strafford (1837). 
Massinger, Philip, A New Way to Pay Old Debts 

(1632); The City Madam (1632). 
Mayne, Jasper, The City Match (1639). 
Shirley, James, Hyde Park (1632); The Lady of 

Pleasure (1637); The Triumph of Peace (1634). 



CHAPTER IV 
DRYDEN'S LONDON 

In 1666 London was in the condition of an 
athlete just after a long and exhausting struggle. 
The first moments following the ordeal reveal 
him as a primitive animal— a somewhat repulsive 
spectacle. He can do nothing, say nothing, until 
heart-beat and respiration have come down to 
normal. So in this long-suffering community 
could be seen traces of subsiding passion, while the 
physical city, twice struck down by acts of God, 
was beginning its stark and tremulous recovery 
from the Fire and the Plague. 

In those very years when Milton was living in 
neglected obscurity, John Dryden, the great man 
of the Restoration period, was making rapid strides 
in a career of adroit self-adjustment which insured 
his eminence among his fellows. Born in 1631, 
if heredity had accounted for all his prejudices, 
he would have become a zealous Puritan. His 
schooling was under the famous Dr. Busby at 
Westminster, and his prolonged but far from bril- 
liant university career, at Cambridge. It is said 
that he was at one time secretary to his fiery 

93 



94 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

cousin-german, Sir Gilbert Pickering, Lord Cham- 
berlain to Oliver Cromwell. His own temporary 
allegiance to the Protector was emphatically 
recorded in the heroic stanzas on his death. 1 
From these it appeared that Cromwell was in- 
stinctively a peace-lover who had been reluct- 
antly drawn into the conflict; that though he 
was regardless of fame and fortune, "no winter 
could his laurels fade ' ' ; and that love and majesty 
blended in his mien. The modern student is 
inclined to estimate these observations as only 
slightly more accurate than his concluding pro- 
phecy, "His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest." 2 

In the ordinary course of events the subsequent 
patronage of his cousin Sir Gilbert and of his 
uncle Sir John Driden would doubtless have been 
useful to him. Not so under the circumstances; 
and when the great reversal came, the young poet 
managed to do very well without their help. Now 
he fell into that great middle group of Englishmen 
who had neither been secured by their devoted 
loyalty to the Stuarts, nor utterly endangered 

1 "Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Oliver Cromwell," by John 
Dryden, 1659. 

2 "This day .... were the carcasses of those arch rebells 
Cromwell, Bradshaw .... and Ireton, dragged out of their superb 
tombs .... to Tyburne, and hang'd on the gallows .... and then 
buried under that fatal and ignominious monument in a deepe 
pitt." — Evelyn's Diary, September 30, 1661. 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 95 

by the violence of their opposition; and, like the 
majority of this group, Dryden was after all 
not so much a coward or a weakling as a not 
abnormally self-interested commoner with a well- 
developed capacity for being reconciled to the 
existing order of things. As soon as the tide 
had clearly turned, he twice took occasion to 
express his profound satisfaction. As he was 
not writing lyric poetry he may have been able, 
without a twinge of conscience at the false im- 
plication, to record of Charles the undeniable 
fact that 

For his long absence church and state did groan, 
Madness the pulpit, faction seized the throne: 
Experienced age in deep despair was lost, 
To see the rebel thrive, the loyal crost. 1 

Still feeling that, in behalf of himself and thou- 
sands like himself, some theory for the shift of 
allegiance should be offered, he stated in smooth 
measures that "the blessed change" stole on 
them so quietly that they felt the effect with- 
out seeing the manner of it. Even this explana- 
tion, which did not justify, left him so uncertain 
that when assurances of royal clemency were 
finally confirmed he set down what was probably 

1 "Astraea Redux, Poem on the Happy Restoration and Return 
of His Sacred Majesty, Charles II," 11. 21-25. 



96 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the most heartfelt line in either effusion when he 
wrote : 

But 'tis our king's perfection to forget. 1 

By 1666, as coming testimony of Pepys will 
show, Charles had forgotten. Flattery for pardon 
now gave way to adulation for patronage, which 
was seldom more grossly laid on than by the 
unblushing statement in "Annus Mirabilis (1666)" 

that 

never prince in grace did more excel 
Or royal city more in duty strove. 2 

This poem, however, brings us back to London 
"the Metropolis of Great-Britain, the most 
renowned and late flourishing City," to which it 
was dedicated with genuine enthusiasm. Its 
three hundred stanzas are full of eager loyalty, the 
first two-thirds of them rather prosily exulting 
in the recent naval victory over the Dutch, and 
the remainder in graphic verse telling of the Great 
Fire and the city's recovery from it. From the 
time of this tribute Dryden composed no sig- 
nificant poetry for fifteen years, giving his liter- 
ary energy largely to playwriting. The restored 

'"To His Sacred Majesty, A Panegyric on His Coronation," 
1. 89. 

2 "Annus Mirabilis, the Year of Wonders, MDCLXVI," stanza 
ccxli. 



riBMaiilHB 











IN WESTMINSTER HALL 
(From F. Sandiford, Coronation of James II, 1687 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 97 

theater is immensely important in any study of 
the Restoration period. It represents what the 
pleasure-lovers enjoyed and what all the rest at 
least tolerated. 

The two men to whom we first turn for literary 
information are a pair of witnesses who can hardly 
be rivaled in any other generation. John Evelyn, 
who lived from 1620 to 1706 and kept a diary from 
1 64 1 until within a few weeks of his death, is the 
aristocrat of the two. He was a man of fortune 
much given to travel, particularly during the 
troublesome years from 1643 to 1652, and devoted 
whether at home or abroad to the pursuit of 
knowledge. His twenty-seven volumes are rarely 
found today even on the shelves of great libraries, 
though his imposing monographs on forestry, 
gardening, horticulture, architecture, sculpture, 
and engraving testify to his value as a commen- 
tator on the taste of his own generation. He was 
a faithful supporter of the Stuarts, opposed to the 
idea of revolution, and hardly less hostile to the 
vulgarities of the King's foes. At the same time 
he was a true Englishman in upholding royalty 
even though he disapproved of royal misbehavior. 
He was a personal counselor to three monarchs, a 
friend to the noblest born, and himself not a 



98 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Peer only because he preferred to retain his 
humbler rank as baronet. 

Samuel Pepys, who during the latter part of his 
life was a close and cordial friend of Evelyn, rose 
by his own efforts to wealth, eminence, and — more 
rare than either of these — what seemed to be real 
culture. He was a young gentleman of direct 
ambitions and many useful friends. When there 
was no other help for it he resigned himself to 
the divinity that shapes our ends, but for the most 
part he was busied in shaping his own for himself, 
and not at all disposed to be content with rough- 
hewing them. His diary is a chronicle of only 
nine years of his life, ending when he was thirty- 
six, at which time failing eyesight made him aban- 
don the use of the pen. In these years he was 
very different from John Evelyn. The difference 
in the content and style of their diaries is probably 
greater, however, than even the difference in their 
characters. For Evelyn wrote as with an eye to 
possible publication, and Pepys in a code which 
was not deciphered until a century and a half later. 
Evelyn's short jottings, covering over sixty years, 
bulk up to just about the volume of Pepys' minute 
reminiscences of a single decade. Evelyn wrote 
with the courtly compression of the English fine 
gentleman. Pepys, although struggling with a 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 99 

multitude of duties, seemed when he took up his 
gossipy journal to loaf and invite his soul. 

In a perfectly conventional way their London, 
which was Dryden's London, regarded itself as 
the most charming spot in the most superior land 
on earth. The country must exist, but only as a 
barbarous surrounding territory that performed 
the useful function of occupying space. One might 
go to it for a day, and on returning patronizingly 
quote Beaumont and Fletcher, "What sweet 
living 'tis in the country," or "Poor souls, God 
help 'em, they live as contentedly as one of us." 
Or students might retire from town for years, 
spending their lives in the libraries and lecture- 
rooms of the great universities. But to the arro- 
gant Londoner there was no learning to match the 
lessons of city life, and no comfort or pleasure to 
equal what the crowded town could give. "I have 
vowed," says one of Thomas Shadwell's char- 
acters, "to spend all my life in London. People 
do really live nowhere else. They breathe and 
move, and have a kind of insipid dull being, but 
there is no life but in London. I had rather be 
Countess of Puddledock than Queen of Sussex." 

The metropolis, of course, was steadily growing. 
Within the old walled inclosure population could 
be no thicker than it had been for a hundred years. 



ioo LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

The main increase in the building-up of the town 
came in the continual broadening back from the 
river of the long connecting link between Temple 
Bar and Whitehall. A view of successive maps 
shows how this community developed from the 
time when there was a single row of houses along 
the Thames, past the period when Fleet Street 
and the Strand were flanked on both sides, up 
to the day when as far back as High Holborn and 
Oxford Street there was a solid community built 
up to the broad expanse of Hyde Park at the west. 
It may be remembered that among Milton's many 
residences some were just outside the western edge 
of the City. Dryden's chief residence and the one 
to which his name is most closely attached was 
on Gerrard Street in Soho, about a half-mile due 
north of Charing Cross. This was the proper 
vantage point for a critic of the times. He was 
in the mid-region between the Court and the City, 
roughly a mile north of the one and west of the 
other, and capable of viewing both without the 
sort of prejudice which might have embarrassed 
him had he been wholly identified with either. 

To what Macaulay was in the habit of calling 
the "common observer," the town which Dryden 
admired and Shadwell extolled seemed to be a 
court-ridden London. While Parliament and the 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 101 

judges were proceeding with their grim work of 
revenge upon the regicides, Charles was sur- 
rounded by a group who troubled themselves 
little with legislative and judicial affairs. The 
sordid vice of the day is an unedifying subject. 
Taine exults in the fact that England is thereby 
shown to be brutally inferior to France. Hamil- 
ton 1 enjoyed it. Pepys was at once shocked and 
fascinated by it. Evelyn, usually reticent, had 
nothing but disapproval to express when he men- 
tioned it at all. 

Pepys in his unconsciousness of posterity is 
doubtless the best source of data. With a fully 
developed appetite for gossip, he gathered what- 
ever he could as he went his rounds. To be near 
the King or the Duke of York, particularly if one 
of their mistresses was by, made him all eyes and 
ears. Nasty happenings at dinners and balls 
were welcome grist for his mill; and yet it should 
be said that though he did not express disapproval 
of them, he did not dwell on them with any mor- 
bidness. 2 Evelyn, however, deplored whatever 
he recorded of this sort. 3 The same character 

1 Author of the famous Memoirs of Count Grammont. 

2 See Pepys' Diary for January i, 1662-63; February 8, 17, 
1662-63; November 9, 1663; February 21, 1664-65; July 29, 1667; 
etc. 

s See Evelyn's Diary, for January 6, 1661-62; October 9-10, 
1671; October 21, 1671. 



102 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

who was a fascinating fine lady to Pepys was a 
"young wanton" in his vocabulary. When he 
found "ye jolly blades racing, dauncing, feasting, 
and revelling," he could not refrain from the addi- 
tion, "more resembling a luxurious and abandon'd 
rout than a Christian court." Writing on the 
death of Charles, he concluded his account in 
honest grief: 

I can never forget the inexpressible luxury and pro- 
phaneness, gaming and all dissoluteness, and as it were 
total forgetfulness of God (it being Sunday evening) which 
this day se'ennight I was witnesse of, the King sitting 
and toying with his concubines, Portsmouth, Cleaveland, 
and Mazarine, &c, a French boy singing love songs, in 
that glorious gallery, whilst about twenty of the greate 
courtiers and other dissolute persons were at basset round 
a large table, a bank of at least 2000 in gold before them> 
upon which two gentlemen who were with me made 
reflexions with astonishment. Six days after was all in the 
dust! It was enjoin'd that those who put on mourning 
should wear it as for a father, in ye most solemn manner. 1 

Profligacy, aside however, what else was of 
interest ? 

Probably there is no social trait of this 
generation more impressive in contrast to the 
present than the pervasive and characteristic 
rough-and-readiness which survived from the day 

1 Evelyn's Diary, February 4, 1684-85. 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 103 

of James I. 1 This primitiveness appears, for 
instance, in the still crude ineffectiveness of the 
machinery of living. The same people who were 
in love with splendor on state occasions, and with 
qualified luxury for the few, had little idea of the 
almost effeminate completeness with which we of 
today protect ourselves from every discomfort. 
A simple white-plastered wall in the state that the 
paper-hanger finds it seemed a striking triumph of 
skill to Pepys. He was as impressed with a car- 
riage with laminated springs as a high-wheel rider 
of the late 'eighties was at the first appearance 
of the safety bicycle with pneumatic tires. Eve- 
lyn was grateful one day when his daughter was 
thrown without injury completely out of her 
carriage by a lurch on a rough street in the city, 
but made no comment on the needless danger to 
which all vehicle-users were subjected. Benjamin 
Franklin's homely and sensible attention to the 
problems of street-paving, draining, and lighting 
was not to be applied for two full generations yet. 
It was a primitive age in the degree of super- 
stition with which its scanty science was encum- 
bered. 2 The reign of Charles, notable in many 

1 See present volume, pp. 44 and 50-56 passim. 

2 For a full discussion of this, see Edward Eggleston, Transit 
of Civilization, chaps, i and ii. 



104 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

respects, was not least so for the portents with 
which it was accompanied. The Plague was 
similarly preceded, 1 ominous prophets also fore- 
telling its progress to the infinite fright of the 
hysterical. 

This evening looking out of my chamber window 
towards the west, I saw a meteor of an obscure bright 
colour, very much in shape like the blade of a sword, the 
rest of the skie very serene and cleare. What this may 
portend God onely knows; but such another phenomenon 
I remember to have seene in 1640, about the triall of the 
greate Earle of Strafford, preceding our bloudy rebellion. 
I pray God avert his judgments. We have had of late 
several comets, which tho' I believe appeare from naturall 
causes, and of themselves operate not, yet I cannot despise 
them. They may be warnings from God, as they are 
commonly forerunners of his animadversions. 2 

In such a generation it was not surprising 
that the study of alchemy was still pursued, 3 that 
the King gravely practiced as a healer of King's 
Evil, 4 and that the practice of medicine was still 
extraordinary in the violence of its application. 
On the 17th of April, 1648, Evelyn fell into a six 
days' illness, from which he finally began "to 

1 See Defoe, History of the Plague, Bohn ed., p. 17. 

2 Evelyn's Diary, December 12, 1680. 
slbid., January 2, 1651-52. 

4 Ibid., July 6, 1660. This was still practiced as late as the 
boyhood of Dr. Johnson, 1710-20. 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 105 

have ease by using the fumes of cammomile on 
embers applied to my eares after all physitians 
had don their best." And more than a dozen 
years later he received from Sir Kenelm Digby 
for a digestive cure "raine water of the Autumnal 
equinox exceedingly rectified, very volatile." Of 
course, little was known about the care of small 
children, and the infant mortality as recorded in 
London by Evelyn was no less dreadful than that 
of the same years in Boston as indicated in the 
diary of his contemporary, Judge Samuel Sewall. 
John Evelyn himself, with all his wealth and 
intelligence, lost four of his five sons in infancy. 

Again, it was a kind of primitiveness which 
led to the overelaboration of dress that prevailed 
in Charles's court. Pepys, who was no more of a 
popinjay than plenty of other men of his genera- 
tion and ours, showed the effect of the fashions 
upon himself in frequent entries. 

This morning come home my fine camlet cloak, with 
gold buttons, with a silk suit, which cost me much money, 
and I pray God to make me able to pay for it. 1 .... 
This morning, my brother Tom brought me my jacka- 
napes coat with silver buttons. It rained this morning, 
which makes us fear that the glory of this day will be lost. 2 
.... This night W. Hewer brought me home from Mr. 

1 Pepys' Diary, July 1, 1660. 

2 Ibid., July 5, 1660. 



106 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Pirn's my velvet coat and cap, the first that ever I had. 1 
.... To Whitehall on foot, calling at my office to change 
my long black coat for a short one (long cloaks being now 
quite out). 2 

Pepys' early petition about paying his debts 
met with such response that he continued in suc- 
cessive extravagances, for which Providence and 
his own enterprise combined to foot the bills. 

Yet the ingenuity of the King was not to be 
satisfied by simple elaborations of English dress. 
By 1666 affairs had come to such a point that he 
had resorted to the Orient for inspiration. The 
sober Evelyn approved of a costume "after ye 
Persian mode" because this satisfied his antipathy 
to the French, so that twelve days after the appear- 
ance of the King in Eastern fashion, he records of 
himself, 

to London to our office, and now had I on the vest and 
surcoat and tunic, as it was call'd, for His Majesty had 
brought the whole Court to it. It was a comely and 
manly habit, too good to hold, it being not possible for us 
in good earnest to leave ye Monsieurs' vanity long. 3 

Charles, however, finally embarrassed by the 
ruling lavishness of the day, was for reforming it 
altogether by adopting a set and simple costume: 

1 Pepys' Diary, August 29, 1660. 

2 Ibid., October 7, 1660. 

3 Evelyn's Diary, September 18 and 30, 1666. 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 107 

"A long cassock, close to the body, of black cloth, 
and pinked with white under it, and the legs 
ruffled with black rib and like a pigeon's leg .... 
a very fine and handsome garment." And the 
fashion stood — until the King of France, by way 
of a left-handed compliment, adopted it for his 
footmen ! 

It would be wrong perhaps to refer to the still 
vigorous love of pageantry as an evidence of prim- 
itiveness. Yet in general, enjoyment of this sort 
among the northern peoples seems to wane with 
the advance of years. New Orleans, Madrid, and 
Venice preserve what London has lost, the great 
festivals of today being merrily carried through 
by southern folk, who are viewed by a surround- 
ing crowd of sober witnesses descended from the 
top of the map to look on at what they have 
forgotten how to enjoy. 

In Pepys one would, of course, expect to find 
much attention given to the pomp and ceremony 
of state occasions, but Evelyn is not far behind. 
On January 1, 1661-62, he accepted an invitation 
to "the solemn foolery of the Prince de la Grange 
at Lincoln's Inn, where came the King, Duke, 
etc." On August 23 of the same year he was 
spectator at the triumphal welcome of the new 
queen on the Thames. "His Majestie and the 



io8 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Queene came in an antiq-shap'd open vessell, 
cover 'd with a state or canopy of cloth of gold, 
made in the form of a cupola, supported with 
high Corinthian pillars, wreath'd with flowers, 
festoons, and garlands. I was in our new-built 
vessell sailing amongst them." November 27 it 
was the entrance of the Russian ambassador with 
his suite, which drew all London into the streets. 
In October, 1664, the Lord Mayor's triumph by 
water and land was "ye most magnificent," the 
lavish feast at the Guildhall costing £1,000. At 
one time it is the ceremonial of the Knights of the 
Garter, at another the presentation of a masque 
at Court, at another still a royal birthday. Some 
of these events survive, but the difference which 
impresses the reader is in the degree of oppressive 
solemnity 1 with which, as early as the late eight- 
eenth century, stateliness had begun to surround 
itself. 

It was a crude age in point of food and drink, 
people consuming incredible quantities. Pepys was 
frequently fuddled, and not seldom witness or aid 
in the case of a friend who needed to be helped 
home, or carried to bed from his own dining- 
room. A lady who drank a pint and a half 
of canary almost at a single draught excited no 

1 See W. D. Howells, London Films, 1905, chap, iii, on "Shows 
and Side-Shows of State." 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 109 

great comment. The amount of meat and game 
eaten was quite in proportion — the service not so 
impressive as the quantity. Pepys exclaimed at 
"my Lord Barkshire waiting on table, and serving 
the King drink, in that dirty pickle as I never 
saw man in my life"; 1 and Grammont listened 
as the King called attention to the fact he was 
served kneeling in sign of especial respect, only 
to reply: "I thank your Majesty for the explana- 
tion. I thought they were begging pardon for 
giving you so bad a dinner." 

The age was crude, too, in the unrennement of 
its manners. The singing at divine service was 
once so bad that the King laughed aloud, and the 
sermons often so dull that the courtiers amused 
themselves in open and arrant flirtations. Pepys 
was one time annoyed at the theater because his 
coat was soiled by a lady in front of him who spat 
over her shoulder, but he was consoled on seeing 
that she was pretty. Pleasure in the company of 
attractive women was very likely to lead him 
into a genial romp with them. They were so 
lovely he wanted to muss them up; and he did it, 
apparently to their delight. 

Naturally among men the prevailing roughness 
of demeanor led — in the conduct of the brutal 
element which nowadays is held under control, 

1 Pepys' Diary, July 25, 1666. 



no LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

sometimes by the dictates of respectability and 
sometimes by the fear of law — to acts of amazing 
violence. In almost every man or woman there 
exist some faint survivals of the primitive passion 
for smashing. It is quite evident in children of 
the cheap-toy age. For the benefit of adults, 
though it is usually repressed, it is sometimes dig- 
nified and institutionalized as in the case of Hal- 
lowe'en, or the American baggage-handler. The 
invention of glass has been useful in offering oppor- 
tunities for smashing to every level of society 
from the stratum of beveled mirrors and table 
ornaments down to the riffraff who feed on the 
destruction of shop windows and street lamps. 
But the practices of seventeenth-century England 
serve to expose and emphasize the miserable limi- 
tations of the present. The followers of Cromwell 
had been sating this appetite when they justified 
Samuel Butler in calling them: 

Such as do build their faith upon 
The holy text of pike and gun, 
Decide all controversy by 
Infallible artillery; 
And prove their doctrine orthodox 
By apostolic blows and knocks; 
Call fire and sword and desolation 
A godly, thorough reformation. 1 

'Butler, "Hudibras," Part I, 11. 195-202. See entire passage, 
11. 191-230. 



DRYDEN'S LONDON ill 

The kind of controversy which was decided by 
blows and knocks was not confined simply to 
religious disputants. In connection with literary 
differences of opinion there was the same semi- 
barbarous violence. The general inclination of 
men who were arguing in print about some matter 
of artistic judgment was to "do their opponents 
up," and their methods for gaining victory 
included not only argument on the question at 
stake but personal comment on the mental equip- 
ment of their opponents and upon any character- 
istic or fact connected with their lives and careers 
that might tend to embarrass them. Dryden is 
writing with only ordinary vigor when he refers 
to certain opponents as "wretched scribblers" 
and says that he wishes "to be hated by them and 
their fellows for the same reason for which" he 
desires to be loved by his patron. 

Of course the Restoration roysterers were not 
to be outdone by Puritan inconoclasts. They 
could confidently match the destruction of ecclesi- 
astical carvings, statuary, and windows by the 
wantonness with which they made the streets at 
night as dangerous as any brigand-harried pass. 
It was their time and place to avenge injury or 
insult as well as to seek after casual adventure, and 
the court followers were so far committed to this 



ii2 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

sort of conduct that the slight murmur of disap- 
proval which followed a notable outrage was 
drowned in the chorus of derision which hailed 
the victim. When Dryden, on his way home 
from Will's Coffee-house on an evening in 1679, 
was beaten by ruffians, the disgrace fell on the poet 
rather than on the Earl of Rochester, who was 
supposed to have instigated the attack. Perhaps 
posterity has exaggerated the wanton violence 
of the young bucks of these days. Sir Walter 
Besant says so, even while he quotes from Gay's 
"Trivia": 

Who has not trembled at the Mohock's name ? 
Was there a watchman took his hourly rounds, 
Safe from their blows or new-invented wounds ? 
I pass their desperate deeds and mischief's done, 
Where from Snow-hill black steepy torrents run; 
How matrons, hoop'd within the hogshead's womb, 
Were tumbled furious thence. 1 

It should not for a moment be assumed that 
the basic qualities of a London with these surface 
manners were different from those of Puritan 
days. The real distinction between one genera- 
tion and another is nothing more than a matter 

1 Gay, "Trivia, or The Art of Walking the Streets of London," 
Part III, 11. 326-32. Shadwell's The Scowrers (1691), corroborates 
Gay. See in detail Society Sketches in the Eighteenth Century by 
Norman Pearson, chap i, "The Scowrers and Mohocks." 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 113 

of emphasis. Such a distinction is comparable 
to the discovery of differences between children of 
the same parents. From the maternal point of 
view there is nothing but contrast in tempera- 
ment; to the casual visitor, little but similarity 
in feature, voice, and carriage. At a distance of 
more than two centuries from this epoch the 
historical stranger can still see persisting in it 
the same two elements which threatened England 
in 1600 and disrupted it in 1650, now once more 
contiguous but by no means recemented together. 
Their very distribution over the city is significant. 
To the west and south of Charing Cross was a 
community which might complacently adopt as 
its standard Etherege's measure of quality when 
he wrote : 

A gentleman out to dress well, dance well, fence well, 
have a talent for love letters, a pleasant voice in a room, 
to be always very amorous, sufficiently discreet, but not 
too constant. 1 

But east of Whitehall in the old City the stubborn 
survival of the unreconstructed Puritan was a 
very evident fact. It is always harder, of course, 
for the loser to forget. The consolations of victory 
and prosperity are subtle aids to the healing work 
of time. So, the exhuming of Cromwell, Bradshaw, 

1 The Man of Mode, or Sir Fopllng Flutter, Act I. 



H4 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

and Ireton 1 was to the defeated minority a bitter 
reminder of their splendid burials 2 not many years 
before. The reopening of the theaters and the 
reintroduction of bear-baiting were not beheld 
with merely silent protest. The Puritan of the 
period could hardly be indifferent to the shouts of 
delight which rewelcomed the historic caricature 
of himself in Bartholomew Fair, when that play was 
put on the stage after a lapse of a quarter-century. 
On the other hand, the venom of old days was 
sometimes on the tongues of the victors. As late 
as 1672 the reproach of Restoration days was still 
held over such a valiant naval officer as Lord 
Sandwich ; 3 and a dozen years after this the hard- 
est blow that any of Dryden's many enemies 
could strike was a reprint of his own earlier lines 
to Cromwell. 

The reopening of the theaters, after eighteen 
years of almost complete inactivity, came as a 
matter of course in 1660. All the chief playhouses 
of Elizabethan times had passed into disuse, and 

1 Evelyn's Diary, September 30, 1660. 

2 Ibid., March 6, 165 1; October 22, 1658. 

•5 Ibid., May 31, 1672; "He had, I confesse, serv'd the tyrant 
Cromwell when a young man, but t'was without malice, as a 
souldier of fortune; and he readily submitted, and that with joy, 
bringing an entire fleet with him from the Sound, at ye first tidings 
of his Majestie's restauration." 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 115 

most of them had been destroyed. With the 
organization of two new companies, the King's 
Theater was early erected in Drury Lane, near 
Charing Cross north of the Strand, and the Duke's 
Theater at Lincoln's Inn Fields, a short distance 
to the north and east. At the outset the play 
itself was adapted or designed to fit the Restora- 
tion audience. For this audience from the very 
first the theaters seem to have been improved in 
a physical way. Says Pepys: 

The stage is now .... a thousand times better and 
more glorious than ever heretofore. Now wax candles, 
and many of them; then not above 3 lbs. of tallow: now, 
all things civil, no rudeness anywhere; then, as in a bear 
garden: then, two or three fiddlers; now, nine or ten of the 
best: then, nothing but rushes on the ground, and every- 
thing else mean; and now all otherwise: then, the Queen 
seldom, and the King would never come; now, not only 
the King only for state, but all civil people do think they 
may come as well as any. 1 

Possibly one result of the use of many candles 
was the change in the opening hour from three to 
six in the afternoon. At any rate by Addison's 
time the shift had come, so that the member of the 
Inner Temple in the Spectator's Club started at 
five to have his "shoes rubbed and his periwig 
powdered," before taking a turn at Will's until 

1 Pepys' Diary, February 12, 1666-67. 



n6 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the play began at the Drury Lane Theater. 1 By 
Addison's time, too, more playhouses had sprung 
up — at Covent Garden, the Haymarket, the Opera 
House, and Goodman's Fields. 

Yet all of this machinery was devoted to a 
degenerate stage which, even in the reigns of 
William and Mary and of Anne, still felt the 
noxious influence of Charles II. All the material 
for drama was lavishly supplied. The romantic 
variety of loosely disciplined life, the strong 
contrast between opposing social elements, the 
splendor of town and court, the picturesque and 
tragic memories of such national disasters as the 
Plague and the Fire, the background of recurrent 
and always imminent struggle with rival nations 
on the Continent; leisure, culture, and a taste for 
writing— all of these might have combined into 
the making of a great drama had there been any 
genuinely deep social impulse toward such an 
end. But there was not. 

During the first year of the reopened theater 
the overwhelming majority of plays attended by 
Pepys came from Elizabethan authorship. He 
saw Henry IV and The Merry Wives of Windsor, 
Middleton's The Changeling once and Beaumont 
and Fletcher's The Scornful Lady many times. 

1 Spectator, No. 2. 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 117 

Sir William Davenant seems to have been the 
first of the new generation to attract his attention 
more than once. Yet of the first seventeen plays 
noted in a casual jotting of the performances 
seen in the year following August, 1660, only two 
of them are of Restoration authorship. Dryden's 
successful play- writing does not begin before 1664, 
and of this the melancholy fact must be recorded 
that he wrote down to the level of the day not 
only in the manner but in the matter of his plays. 
He might have said of all his dramatic work what 
he did about the subject for one panegyric, "I 
swam with the tide, and the water under me was 
buoyant." 1 

Under the circumstances there was little to be 
hoped for from the subsequent satire of Wycher- 
ley, "the sparkling dialogue and fine raillery of 
Congreve, the frank nature and admiration of 
Vanbrugh, the manifold inventions of Farquhar." 
Though the playhouses thrived, this same verdict 
was rendered among thinking contemporaries. 
Jeremy Collier in a tremendous attack followed 
up Prynne's assault of two generations earlier. 2 

1 Letter to the Earl of Abingdon prefatory to Eleanor a, dedicated 
to the memory of the Countess of Abingdon. 

2 Collier, "Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of 
the Stajre ," 1608. 



nS LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

And Addison in his negative way seemed to express 
disapproval. Look over his Spectator papers for 
his opinions on the theater. I have just run 
through two hundred of them as a test. He refers 
often to the Italian Opera, and he devotes one 
short series to a discussion of classical tragedy; 
not a word of contemporary plays and playwrights. 
It is hard to say anything of the great contro- 
versial satires of 1681 without becoming lost in a 
maze of political details. By this year Charles 
was in the toils between the rival factions led by 
the Duke of Monmouth and Shaftesbury. To 
deal with this situation, to make himself strong 
with the King and his party, and to handle the 
whole problem in terms of that effective pseudo- 
biblical satire which had already been experi- 
mented upon by a predecessor, was as natural 
and easy for Dry den as it had been earlier to 
succeed in the popular play, or as it was for 
him later to be pre-eminent in the already well- 
established field of translation from the classics. 
His power of portraiture and of brisk analysis 
presented political London in permanent literary 
satire. The zealous partisanship of Shaftesbury's 
followers and their adoption of a medal when he 
was freed from the Tower gave Dryden the oppor- 
tunity for a second work, The Medal, a satire 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 119 

against sedition. The second part of Absalom 
and Achitophel continued his treatment of the 
political situation, and these with the others that 
followed, notably, of course, The Hind and the 
Panther in 1687, round out a series which are as 
interesting to one who has the historic background 
for them, as they are mystifying to the reader who 
hopes to get some pleasure from a casual perusal 
of them. Their strength is their weakness — 
their complete dependence upon a knowledge of 
the immediate problems with which they dealt. 

In the last half of Dryden's lifetime London 
life was being carried on amid new architectural 
surroundings. After the Great Fire, schemes for 
the rebuilding of the city on less casual lines were 
promptly presented by many, the most important 
coming from Evelyn and Wren. The attitude of 
modern Londoners toward the fact that all these 
plans were rejected depends on whether they are 
most inclined to rejoice in the survival of old street 
lines, or to lament the absence of Parisian regu- 
larity in the lay of the land. In a way, however, 
even though one man's unified design was not to 
be imposed on the vast destroyed acreage, one 
man's genius stamped itself on the rebuilt town. 
For Christopher Wren, indefatigable as Rubens 
on canvas or Grinling Gibbons in wood-carving, 



120 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

was soon made "surveyor general and principal 
architect for rebuilding the whole city; the 
cathedral church of St. Paul; all the parochial 
churches .... with other public structures." 
For forty years he worked incessantly. He 
accomplished enough to have satisfied an average 
man in his work as surveyor of Westminster, in 
his additions to Windsor Castle, and his achieve- 
ments at Oxford, Cambridge, and elsewhere; but 
meanwhile he designed and carried to conclusion 
the monument commemorative of the Fire, the 
new St. Paul's, fifty-two parish churches, thirty 
of the companies' halls, and many private houses. 
Except in deliberate perversity one cannot walk 
for five minutes in any neighborhood between 
Charing Cross and the Tower, the River and 
London Wall or Holborn, without encountering 
one or more of these buildings. The thousands 
of shops and dwellings that sprang up during 
these years were of a new sort. The old timbered 
overhanging houses, enriched by a multiplicity 
of lines and ornaments, were replaced with 
severely regular structures of stone, brick, or 
plaster. Here and there, as at Staple Inn on 
Holborn, or the Inner Temple Gate House, the 
older types yet stand ; but, for the most part, the 
angular rectitude of Gerrard Street, as Dryden 





ST. BRIDE'S, FLEET STREET 

(Christopher Wren, architect) 
(From a photograph) 



ST. MARY LE BOW 

(Christopher Wren, architect) 
(From a photograph) 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 121 

used to know it, is today indicative of what 
had become the new order of things. 

The steady growth of the city had brought its 
population to three-quarters of a million by 1700. 
London now included in the almost wholly rebuilt 
section "a lawyer's quarter from Gray's Inn to 
the Temple; a quarter north of the Strand 
occupied by coffee-houses, taverns, theaters, a 
great market, and the people belonging to these 
places." Outside, to the east and north of the 
Tower, was a workman's quarter at Whitechapel, 
and to the west an aristocratic quarter bounded 
by the City, Westminster, Hyde Park, and Ox- 
ford Street. On the other side of the river, 
between London Bridge and St. George's, was a 
busy High Street with streets left and right ; and 
the river bank was lined with houses from Paris 
Garden to Rotherhithe. Already London had 
become, as it is today, an aggregation of towns 
each with its own individuality, the list by 1700 
totaling forty-six besides the City and West- 
minster. 

Illustrative Readings 
Biography and Social History 

Besant, Walter, London in the Time of the Stuarts. 

Evelyn, John, Diary from 1660 on. 

Macaulay, T. B., "Essay on Dryden," Edinburgh 
Review, 1828. 



122 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Pepys, Samuel, Diary. 

Scott, Walter, Life of John Drydcn. 

Contemporary Occasional Poems 

Dryden, John, "Heroic Stanzas on the Death of 
Oliver Cromwell," xiii, 13; "Astraea Redux, A 
Poem on the Restoration of King Charles II," 
xiii, 19; "Annus Mirabilis: The Year of Won- 
ders, 1666," xiii, 47. 

Earl of Rochester, "To His Sacred Majesty on His 
Restoration," x, 332. 

Contemporary Description and Satire 

Addison, Joseph, "The Play House," xxiii, 230. 

Butler, Samuel, "Satire on the Licentious Age of 
Charles II," vii, 229; "Satire upon Gaming," vii, 
230; "Ballad upon the Parliament Which Deliber- 
ated about Making Oliver King," vii, 309; "A 
Ballad in Two Parts. Conjectured to Be on 
Oliver Cromwell," vii, 311. 

Collier, Jeremy, "Short View of the Immorality and 
Profaneness of the Stage." 

Earl of Rochester, "The Maim'd Debauchee," x, 326. 

(The volume and page references above are to John- 
son's British Poets: 1779-81). 

Fiction 

Scott, Walter, The Pirate, chap. xii. 

Drama 

Dryden, John, Sir Martin Mar-All (1667); Limber- 
ham (1678). 
Etherege, George, The Man of Mode (1676). 
Otway, Thomas, The Soldier's Fortune (1687). 



DRYDEN'S LONDON 123 

Shadwell, Thomas, The Humourists (167 1) ; The Miser 
(1672); Sir Nicholas Gimcrack; The Squire of 
Alsatia (1688); The Scowrers (1691); The Volun- 
teers (1693). 

Wycherley, William, The Gentleman Dancing Master 
(167 1); Love in a Wood or St. James Park (167 1); 
The Plain Dealer (1674). 



CHAPTER V 
ADDISON'S LONDON 

If the London of 1666 was in the condition of an 
athlete after a long struggle, the London of 1700 
was in the state of mind of a man-about-town after 
a night's dissipation — seriously inclined toward a 
thoughtful examination of its own conduct. This 
mood was the natural consequence of a half- 
century of reckless living. The thinking people of 
these fifty years, of whom there had been no lack, 
had been a neglected minority. In the midst of 
what was beyond peradventure a boisterous and 
unreflective age Pilgrim's Progress had appeared, 
but the fact remains that Pilgrim's Progress was 
an index, not to all England, but only to what 
was at the time an inconsiderable fraction. It was 
not till 1 7 10 or so that England began to give 
heed to its ways. The change was neither com- 
plete nor sudden; such changes never are. It 
was generations later before the supreme litera- 
ture came to have a deeply spiritual significance; 
but literature, even in Addison's day, and largely 
owing to his influence, was elevated and dignified 
in comparison with what had gone before, though 

124 



ADDISON'S LONDON 125 

it was superficial in contrast with what was to 
follow. 

As the generation became more thoughtful, it 
became less capricious. A literary reading public 
began for the first time to develop. The ultimate 
result of this widening attention to literature was 
to be an enormously important one, for in the 
course of a hundred years the public was to provide 
such a consistent market for decent literary effort 
that the old literary patron was to be quite super- 
seded. The first consequence, however, of the 
more extensive popularity of literature was to 
stimulate the patrons to increased generosity. 
The gentleman of wealth and position who 
becomes the backer of any sort of artist, exercises 
this kind of patronage more often than not with a 
view to his own reputation. Under the circum- 
stances the inducement is greater when public 
attention is greater, and at the beginning of the 
eighteenth century the onlooking public was very 
ready to applaud. 

Literary patronage could express itself in 
various ways. It might do so by direct gift of 
money or by the provision of board and lodging 
for a needy writer; again, it might secure 
state appropriations or appointments for deserving 
authors; or it might bestir itself to enlist advance 



126 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

subscriptions for a forthcoming work from mem- 
bers of the inner circle. Thus it was that Pope 
through the guaranteed sales of his translation of 
the Iliad made a fortune — the first achieved by 
any English author unconnected with the stage. 
Swift had to content himself with power instead of 
office. Says Bishop Kennet, in a passage which 
Thackeray quotes: 

When I came to the ante-chamber [at Court] to wait 
before prayers, Dr. Swift was the principal man of talk 
and business. He was soliciting the Earl of Arran to 
speak to his brother, the Duke of Ormond, to get a place for 
a clergyman. He was promising Dr. Thorold to undertake 
with my Lord Treasurer, that he should obtain a salary of 
200 I. per annum as member of the English Church at 
Rotterdam. He stopped F. Gwynne, Esq., going in to 
the Queen with the red bag, and told him aloud, he had 
something to say to him from my Lord Treasurer. He 
took out his gold watch, and telling the time of day, com- 
plained that it was very late. A gentleman said he was 
too fast. "How can I help it," says the Doctor, "if the 
courtiers give me a watch that won't go right?" Then 
he had instructed a young nobleman, that the best poet 
in England was Mr. Pope (a Papist), who had begun a 
translation of Homer into English, for which he would 
have them all subscribe: "For," says he, "he shall not 
begin to print till I have a thousand guineas for him." 
Lord Treasurer, after leaving the Queen, came through 
the room beckoning Dr. Swift to follow him — both went 
off just before prayers. 1 

1 See Thackeray's essay on Swift in English Humourists. 



ADDISON'S LONDON 127 

Various other men of talent were place-holders. 
Steele occupied four different offices in the gift of 
the state. Gay was Secretary to the Earl of 
Clarendon; John Dennis had a place in the 
Custom House. Prior and Tickell were both, 
among other holdings, Under Secretaries of State. 
Addison's record reads like the Who's Who of a 
modern cabinet minister: "Commissioner of 
Appeals; Under Secretary of State; Secretary to 
the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland; Keeper of the 
Records in Ireland ; Lord of Trade ; and one of the 
principal Secretaries of State." All these offices 
he held without doubt because he deserved to hold 
them; but he gained these offices because he had 
gained the ear of London. 

Yet it is misleading to use such phrases as "the 
ear of London" and "the reading public" without 
a caution; for compared with today's, the litera- 
ture of the early eighteenth century was strikingly 
undemocratic in subject-matter and in appeal. In 
fact, the new didactic poetry and prose were less 
genuinely popular than the degenerate drama 
whose place they usurped. A lawyer's clerk was 
much more likely to buy a ticket to The Wild 
Gallant than a copy of the Epistle to Arbuthnot or 
an issue of the Spectator. Addison, with all his 
social effectiveness, was never better described 



128 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

than as " a parson in a tye-wig." Listen to him as 
he preaches: "Let not imprudence get the better 
of modesty." "Avoid foolish superstitions." 
"Discourage the habit of duelling." "Eat and 
drink with measure." "Remember that happi- 
ness is of a retired nature, an enemy to pomp and 
noise." "Be kindly in speech." " Seek innocent 
diversions, enjoy friendship, cultivate the arts." 
These are good, sound, wholesome, and inoffensive 
doctrines. Nor was he alone. Steele, rake among 
scholars, wrote The Christian Hero. Pope com- 
posed hundreds of felicitous couplets on man, 
nature, poetry, and criticism — perfectly obvious 
comments that for generations no one had thought 
to make. Swift in vitriolic outbursts was doing a 
similar thing in an utterly different way. Life for 
most men was becoming a gentler and more 
sophisticated affair. People were discovering that 
in the tense experience of living with each other, 
noise and tumult were not indispensable. 

The product of Pope and Addison and their 
followers was thus a polite literature. It was 
fashioned after classical models and based upon "a 
little learning." Dealing with an objective life 
which was unreal and artificial, it was written 
usually about the privileged few and always for 
them. Gay's Beggar's Opera was an entertain- 



ADDISON'S LONDON 129 

ment, his Shepherd's Week, which introduced 
nominal English peasants, was put out as a set of 
burlesques, his references to common street scenes 
and characters in "Trivia" were developed for 
purposes of contrast. Pope's audience was the 
beau monde from which he drew his material. His 
woods and fields and streams and the pastoral 
people, who composed elegant verses in the midst 
of them, were for the most part literary figments; 
and his chief narrative poem 1 had to do with a 
petty society squabble, which, with adroit elabo- 
ration, he dignified out of all proportion to its 
human significance. 

Again, the range of vision of the Spectator was 
most narrowly circumscribed. One can search 
long through his essays without finding an 
allusion to any fact or person unconnected with 
the England of privilege or culture. The crowded 
state of the professions, the opera, undue party 
zeal, woman's headdress — evergreen topics of this 
not very profound type he passed in review. In 
any age they would make for conversation. There 
were special reasons why they did so in the early 
eighteenth century. 

It was said of Socrates that he brought Philosophy 
down from heaven to inhabit among men; and I shall be 

1 "The Rape of the Lock." 



130 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

ambitious to have it said of me that I have brought 
Philosophy out of closets and libraries, schools and 
colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea-tables 
and in coffee-houses. 1 

In other words said Addison, "I shall see that 
literature is interesting not only to wits and 
scholars, but to all others who have leisure and 
money. Of course, no sane man could expect me 
to take any reckoning of the 'masses.'" 

The most remarkable social products of this 
generation were the coffee-house and the club, both 
of which, starting many years earlier, came to 
highest popularity and to ultimate decline from 
their original forms in the first half of the eight- 
eenth century. Coffee came to England nearly a 
century later than tobacco. On May 10, 1637, 
John Evelyn writing of one Nathaniel Conopios, a 
Greek, says, "He was the first I ever saw drink 
coffee, which custom came not into England until 
thirty years after." The earliest two coffee- 
houses in England were established in 1652 and 
1656, the second, James Farr's, 2 being complained 
against as a nuisance on account of the "evil 
smells" and the danger from his fire which he 
kept "for the most part night and day." The 

1 See Spectator, No. 10. 

2 For the remaining citations in this paragraph I am indebted 
to an unpublished manuscript by Professor Frank C. Lockwood. 



ADDISON'S LONDON 131 

drink was recommended by the accomplished 
people who first affected it on the grounds of its 
extraordinary powers as a stimulant. There was 
more or less controversy about it. But more 
important than any discussions of the potion itself 
were the comments which were made concerning 
its social influence. Certain protectors of home 
industries soon objected on the grounds that the 
use of it was interfering with the beer industry and 
hence with native agriculture; and in 1674 a 
broadside appeared under the title, The Women's 
Petition against Cojfee, a protest asserting that 
coffee drinking encouraged idling and talkative- 
ness and led men to "trifle away their time, scald 
their chops, and spend their money all for a little 
base, black, thick, nasty, bitter, stinking, nauseous 
puddle- water." For a custom prevalent enough 
to arouse such hostility as this, defenders were not 
wanting. Already in a bit of doggerel of 1667 it 
had been said 

So great a Universitie 
I think there ne'er was any, 
In which you may a scholar be 
For spending of a penny. 

Yet it remained for Professor John Houghton of 
Cambridge in his Cojfee House Vindicated to rise to 
highest superlatives in his conclusion that "the 



132 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

coffee-house is the sanctuary of health, the nursery 
of temperance, the delight of frugality, an academy 
of civility, and free school of ingenuity." 

Numerous illustrations survive which give an 
idea as to the interior of such a house. The neatly 
sanded floor, the bare-topped tables, the pictures 
and the plate, the trim hostess at her counter, the 
open fire with the kettle humming over it, all 
suggest comfort and leisure ; and the prints which 
are more frequently seen give evidence that the 
pipes and coffee were only incidental to the real 
business of the patrons, which was talk. The 
nearest survival in London today, aside from 
certain self-consciously antiquated taverns like 
"The Cheshire Cheese," is the modest chop house, 
which is a feature of many unpretentious business 
districts. 1 Here one still finds the straight 
benches and uncovered tables, the newspapers 
well-thumbed and sometimes not innocent of food, 
and the general talk among groups of patrons, who 
are evidently familiar with the establishment, the 
waiters, and each other. And the prices are old- 
fashioned in their modesty. 

Admission to the coffee-house cost a penny, 
and a cup of tea or coffee, twopence. For regular 

1 One of the best illustrations is Snow's Chop House in Glass 
House Lane off Piccadilly Circus. 



ADDISON'S LONDON 133 

individual patrons special rates were reserved and 
for groups of friends special tables or even rooms. 
As gazettes and other journals were subscribed for 
at the houses, there was ground for the apparently 
extraordinary estimate of Addison that each 
number of the Spectator was seen by twenty 
readers. But interchange of opinions, rather than 
isolated reading, was the glory of the coffee-house. 
Since genuine conversation could best thrive only 
among men of kindred minds, it developed that 
most of the houses automatically became centers 
of informal clubs. Practically all of the active- 
minded men of the day frequented, and so 
"belonged to," from one to four of these open 
congresses. The groups which regathered from 
day to day gave character to the places they 
patronized, and many of them became identified 
with some leader, who by virtue of his powers of 
talk not only controlled the discussions but 
actually insured the prosperity of the establish- 
ment. Thus Dryden dominated Will's, and 
Addison in a very different manner held mild sway 
over the "club" at Button's. 

How birds of differing feathers did their flock- 
ing to the various resorts has been well set down 
by the author of A Brief and Merry History of 
Great Britain: 



134 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

At those Coffee-houses, near the Court, called White's, 
St. James's, William's, the conversation turns chiefly 
upon Equipages, Essence, Horse-Matches, Tupces, Modes 
and Mortgages; the Cocoa-Tree upon Bribery and Cor- 
ruption, Evil Ministers, Errors and Mistakes in Govern- 
ment; the Scotch Coffee-houses toward Charing Cross, 
on Places and Pensions; the Tilt Yard and Young Man's 
on Affronts, Honour, Satisfaction, Duels, and Rencounters. 
.... In those Coffee-houses about the Temple the 
subjects are generally on Causes, Costs, Demurrers, 
Rejoinders, and Exceptions; Davids', the Welch Coffee- 
house in Fleet Street, on Births, Pedigrees, and Descents; 
Child's and the Chapter, upon Glebes, Tithes, Advowson's, 
Rectories, and Lectureships; .... Hamlin's, Infant Bap- 
tism, Lay-Ordination, Free Will, Election, and Reprobation; 
.... and all those about the Exchange, where the 
Merchants meet to transact their affairs, are in a per- 
petual hurry about Stock-jobbing, Lying, Cheating, Trick- 
ing Widows and Orphans, and committing Spoil and 
Rapine on the Publick. 1 

1 See Spectator, No. i: "I have passed my latter years in this 
city, where I am frequently seen in most public places, though there 
are not above half a dozen of my select friends that know me; of 
whom my next paper shall give a more particular account. There is 
no place of general resort wherein I do not often make my appearance: 
sometimes I am seen thrusting my head into a round of politicians 
at Will's, and listening with great attention to the narratives that are 
made in those little circular audiences; sometimes I smoke a pipe 
at Child's, and, while I seem attentive to nothing but the Postman, 
overhear the conversation of every table in the room. I appear on 
Sunday nights at St. James's Coffee-house, and sometimes join the 
little committee of politics in the inner room, as one who comes there 
to hear and improve. My face is likewise very well known at the 
Grecian, the Cocoa Tree, and in the theatres both of Drury Lane and 
the Haymarket." 



ADDISON'S LONDON 135 

Most famous of them all in Dryden's day had 
been Will's, in Russell Street, Covent Garden. It 
was of his scant experiences here that Claude 
Halcro, the minstrel of Scott's The Pirate, was 
never tired of telling. 1 But with the reign of 
Addison a new house, Button's just across the 
way, was the favorite. The shift of supremacy 
is referred to in a play which was produced in 
1 7 14, the year after it was founded: 2 

True Wit: Just as it was, I find when I used Will's; 
but, pray sir, does that ancient rendezvous of the Doux 
Esprits hold its ground ? And do men now, as formerly, 
become Wits by sipping Coffee and Tea with Wycherley 
and the reigning poets? 

Freeman: No, no; there has been a great revolution 
in this state of affairs since you left us; Button's is now 
the established Wits' Coffee-house, and all the young 
scribblers of the times pay their attendance nightly there, 
to keep up their pretensions to sense and understanding. 

If tradition is sound, Pope was among those who 
had seen both monarchs on their thrones, Dryden 
when as a little boy he one day was brought up to 
town, and Addison on many later occasions; but 
Pope was not made for a coffee-house career. He 
was an invalid and could not stand the pace ; and 
he was irascible and could not stand the informal 

1 See The Pirate, chap, xii, latter half. 

2 The New Rehearsal, by Gildon. 



136 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

give and take of general company. Jealousy and 
suspicion kept him in a succession of quarrels. 
One of them with Ambrose Phillips, "a pastoral 
tartar," came to an inconclusive climax at 
Button's. Years before Phillips and Pope had 
each written a set of pastorals which appeared in 
the same volume of Tonson's Miscellany. Out of 
the differences between the two and the comments 
of the critics, Pope's pertinacity had bred compli- 
cations which involved not only the original pair 
but Addison and Steele and Gay as well. As a 
letter of Colley Cibber's proves, the little fire 
kindled in 1709 smoldered along for years: 

When you used to pass your hours at Button's, you 
were even then remarkable for your satirical itch of provo- 
cation ; scarce was there a gentleman of any pretension to 
wit, whom your unguarded temper had not fallen upon in 
some biting epigram, among which you once caught a 
pastoral tartar, whose resentment, that your punishment 
might be proportionate to the smart of your poetry, had 
stuck up a birchen rod in the room, to be ready whenever 
you might come within reach of it; and at this rate, you 
writ and rallied and writ on, till you rhymed yourself quite 
out of the coffee-house." 1 

If the modern reader questions whether such 
violence could have been sanctioned he can verify 
fact by fiction, for no less a personage than Sir 

1 See "A Letter from Mr. Cibber to Mr. Pope," 1742, p. 65. 




< l "" > "S 




ADDISON'S LONDON 137 

Roger de Coverley had "kicked Bully Dawson in 
a public Coffee-house for calling him youngster." 1 
As has already been suggested, newspapers 
were one of the important features of a coffee- 
house equipment. The last word on foreign affairs 
and on parliamentary matters furnished spicy food 
for conversation, and the habit of such conversa- 
tion stimulated the appetite for news. "So fond 
(i.e., foolish) are men in these days," Chief Justice 
Scroggs had said, when trying a case as early as 
1680, "that when they will deny their children a 
penny for bread, they will lay it out for a 
pamphlet; and the temptations are so great that 
no man can keep twopence in his pocket because of 
the news." In face of such conditions official 
opposition had been vain. The attempts of 
Charles II in the closing years of his reign had 
resulted disastrously in the discontinuance of the 
Licensing Act, as well as in the prompt withdrawal 
of an act to close the coffee-houses. Finally, in 
February, 1695, through the decisive failure to 
renew the censorship of the journals, the way was 

1 For other references in the Spectator see No. 24 for coffee-house 
autocrats; No. 87 for coffee-house idols; No. 145 for coffee-house 
impertinents; and No. 476 for coffee-house disputes. See also 
Edward Ward, The London Spy, 1698, 9. In Part I, a description 
of a coffee-house; in Part IX, of Man's Coffee-house; in Part X, 
of the Wits' Coffee-house; in Part XIV, of a famous coffee-house in 
Aldersgate-street; etc. 



138 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

opened for general progress in newspaper pub- 
lishing. 

The increase in the number of papers was 
almost immediate. By 1709 eighteen separate 
periodicals, published in London, issued in all 
fifty-five numbers every week. There were six to 
choose from on Mondays, Wednesdays, and 
Fridays; twelve on Tuesdays and Thursdays; 
and thirteen on Saturdays. Competition between 
these rival sheets developed a crew of ill-paid 
hack writers and a species of journalism that was 
deeply tinged with "yellow." Their questionable 
methods of creating good "copy" were thrown 
into strong relief by the dignity and restraint of 
the Taller and the Spectator as Addison and Steele 
conducted them. So scurrilous were the person- 
alities printed by the most unscrupulous of the 
tribe that harsh protests came from all sides. Of 
course, Swift called them "rogues" and "dogs"; 
the mild Queen used such terms as "seditious 
papers" and "designing men"; and Addison, who 
was not fluent in the language of vituperation, 
called them not only "sons of calumny" but 
"dirty scribblers" to boot. It was for Pope to 
dignify them most by damning them blackest. 
In the second book of the Dunciad he dealt with 
several in turn and chief with Arnall, "who 



ADDISON'S LONDON 139 

flings most filth." Of the undistinguished mob 
he wrote : 

Next plunged a feeble but a desperate pack, 
With each a sickly brother at his back. 
Sons of a day! just buoyant on the flood, 
Then numbered with the puppies of the mud. 
Ask ye their names ? I could as soon disclose 
The names of these blind puppies as of those. 
Fast by, like Niobe (her children gone), 
Sits Mother Osborne, stupefied to stone; 
And monumental brass this record bears, 
"These are, ah no! these were the gazetteers!" 1 

v The rewards of the successful authors have 
already been mentioned. For this lesser crew of 
hack writers the situation was usually mean and 
often pathetic. They were largely associated with 
Grub Street, 2 where many of them lived in penury. 
This pathetic little district seems never to have 
been distinguished for anything noble. First, 
because of its nearness to the Artillery Ground 
and Finsbury Field, it was occupied by bowyers, 
bowstring makers, and the like. Then the 
gamblers moved in. They were crowded out by 
seventeenth-century Puritans of the least amiable 

1 Dunciad, Book II, 11. 305-14. 

2 Grub Street, Cripplegate, was called in the fourteenth century 
Grobbe and in the sixteenth Grubbe Street. In 1830 it was elevated 
into Milton Street. 



140 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

sort; and finally the " Grub Street Choir " of verse- 
writers, critics, and pamphleteers usurped the 
honors of the neighborhood. They were, to be 
sure, an unattractive crew, sordid in their squalor 
and seldom inspired in what they wrote by any- 
thing better than hire or hatred. One cannot work 
up much enthusiasm over such a picture as this: 1 

He views with keen desire 
The rusty grate unconscious of a fire; 
With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scored 
And five crack'd tea cups dress'd the chimney board; 
A night cap deck'd his brows instead of bay, 
A cap by night — a stocking all the day! 

Yet as something had to be said about them, 
for they were an ever present blemish on the face 
of literature, those who could afford to made their 
reply in contempt, and those who dared, in abuse. 
At first, enemies of the starvelings had to be some- 
what explicit: 

With viler, coarser jests than at Bear Garden, 

And silly Grub Street songs worse than Tom Farthing. 2 

Then the name without comment became a 
synonym for yellow journalism. " I heard a paper 
crying now in the street, but it sounds too much 
like Grub Street to send it to you." 3 And finally 

1 From Goldsmith's "Description of an Author's Bedchamber." 

2 Shadwell, Prologue to Bury Fair, 1689. 

3 Congreve in a letter of March 12, 1707. 



ADDISON'S LONDON 141 

the innuendo was reduced to a monosyllable, as 
when it was ironically said, "There might be a 
good Grub composed for his dying speech." 1 Poor 
defeated scrabblers after the unattainable, they are 
gone, and so too are the printers who helped them 
to spill their vitriol, and the elect who succeeded in 
perpetuating their fame by the vigor with which 
they cursed them. 

For the street scenes of the town there is no 
better guide than John Gay's "Trivia; or, The 
Art of Walking the Streets of London." In three 
books (1 7 1 5) . The books are like the streets they 
describe in being short, crowded, and full of 
variety. What they omit, or barely touch upon, 
the Spectator as usual details in full. Of the high- 
ways themselves it appears that the single kennel 
or gutter was still in the middle, flooded of course 
in rainy weather, for there were no sewers, and in 
all but the driest season so wet that progress was 
almost a matter of navigation. The narrow ways 
were impeded by coaches, chairs and chairmen, 
and carters of all sorts. The chimney-sweep, the 
chandler with his basket, and the butcher with his 
greasy tray all threatened the wearer of fine 
clothes. Dangers assailed him too from "spouts 
high streaming" and from the dripping balconies 

1 Gilly Williams to the Earl of March, December iS, 1764. 



142 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

when "Saturday's conclusive morn appears." 
Furthermore 

When masons mount the ladder, fragments fly, 
Mortar and crumbled lime in showers descend, 
And o'er thy head destructive tiles impend. 

Highly characteristic of his generation is Gay's 
allusion to the pillory. A fearful license was 
granted the disorderly and malicious to pelt 
victims sentenced to public exposure, unpopular 
offenders being disfigured or even killed as a result 
of this extra-legal punishment. 1 To Gay, how- 
ever, it occurred only to warn pedestrians to keep 
out of range of the missiles. 

Where, elevated o'er the gaping crowd, 
Clasp'd in the board, the perjur'd head is bow'd, 
Betimes retreat; here, thick as hailstones pour, 
Turnips and half-hatched eggs (a mingled shower) 
Among the rabble rain; some random throw 
May with the trickling yolk thy cheek o'crflow. 

The seeker for local atmosphere could find it in 
local odors in all varieties, from Thames Street, the 
region of fish and meat markets and oil merchants, 
past the Fleet-Ditch, which was still a noisome 
open stream at the foot of Ludgate Hill, 2 to "the 

1 Besant, The Orange Girl, Part II, chap. xx. 

2 Pope, Dunciad, Book II, 11. 271-74. See also Ben Jonson, 
The Famous Voyage. 



ADDISON'S LONDON 143 

perfumed paths of fair Pall Mall." At the same 
time he could distinguish not only neighborhoods 
but times and seasons as well by the street cries: 
"the excessive alarms .... in turnip season"; 
the call of the pickle hawkers which, "like the 
song of the nightingale, is not heard above two 
months"; the shrill note of the milkman; the 
hollow voice of the cooper; and the "sad and 
solemn air with which the public are very often 
asked if they have any chairs to mend." 1 One 
of the Spectator's correspondents wanted to 
be Comptroller-General of the London Cries. 
Another asked to be appointed Superintendent of 
Sign Posts. 

\ Our streets are filled with blue boars, black swans, 
and red lions; not to mention flying pigs, and hogs in 
armour, with many other creatures more extraordinary 
than any in the deserts of Africa. Strange! that one 
who has all the birds and beasts in nature to choose out 
of, should live at the sign of an Ens Rationis! My first 
task, therefore, should be, like that of Hercules, to clean 
the city from monsters. In the second place, I would 
forbid, that creatures of jarring and incongruous natures 
should be joined together in the same sign; such as the 
Bell and the Neat's-tongue, the Dog and the Gridiron. 
The Fox and Goose may be supposed to have met, but 
what have the Fox and the Seven Stars to do together? 

1 Spectator, No. 251. 



144 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

And when did the Lamb and the Dolphin ever meet except 
upon a sign-post ? As for the Cat and Fiddle, there is a 
conceit in it; and, therefore, I do not intend that any- 
thing I have here said should affect it 

In the third place, I would enjoin every shop to make 
use of a sign which bears some affinity to the wares in 
which he deals. What can be more inconsistent, than to 
see a Bawd at the sign of the Angel, or a Tailor at the 
Lion? A cook should not live at the boot, nor a shoe- 
maker at the roasted pig; and yet for want of this regula- 
tion, I have seen a goat set up before the door of a per- 
fumer, and the French king's head at a sword cutler's. 1 

One of the most sensational episodes of Pope's 
lifetime was the blowing and pricking of the 
"South Sea Bubble" in 1719-20. The rapid 
development of foreign trade had unsettled people, 
as the sudden exploitation of new resources always 
does. An Englishman, John Law, who had 
escaped to France while under death sentence in 
1694, had developed the "Mississippi Bubble" 
over there and in the course of his operations had 
made himself Comptroller- General of the national 
finances. Before his scheme had exploded in 
January, 1720, a plan was set afoot in England for 
monopolizing the South Sea trade. Led on by 
high dignitaries of state, all the knowing people 
dipped in more or less deeply. Stock jumped up 

1 Spectator, No. 28. 




in 



X 

H £ 

^ +j 

O « 

CO M 

o 

H K 

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O •£ 

S = 

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ADDISON'S LONDON 145 

from 180 in March to twice that in April and five 
times as much in June. Change Alley was 
crowded with speculators, poets, and fine ladies 
elbowing with the common crowd. 

Subscribers here by thousands float, 

And jostle one another down, 
Each paddling in his leaky boat, 

And here they fish for gold, and drown. 1 

Pope invested for himself and for his intimates, the 
Blount sisters. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu 
plunged some of her own money and some of a 
French admirer, M. Remond, paying heavily in 
money, reputation, and peace of mind. By early 
August the stock of the South Sea Company had 
gone up to 1,000, and a large number of other 
companies were luring investors into their nets. 
Besides some that were merely too ambitious, there 
were others that were the wildest of wild-cat 
schemes — perpetual-motion companies and pro- 
jects for "extracting butter from beechnuts, silver 
from lead, and oil from poppies." The South Sea 
directors challenged some of the other bubbles and 
smashed them. Then their own ruin promptly 
followed, and in a few weeks there was an end "to 
that tremendous HOAX, whose extent the petty 
peculators of our day look back upon with the same 

1 See Swift, The South-Sea Project, 1721. 



146 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

expression of incredulous admiration, and hopeless 
ambition of rivalry, as would become the puny face 
of modern conspiracy contemplating the Titan size 
of Vaux's superhuman plot." 1 It was the end of 
the bubble, but not of the consequences. The 
South Sea directors were removed from public 
office, the chief ministers were discredited, and a 
change of government followed. Ruin was the lot 
of many. If the poets were easy victims, they 
were good losers too. Pope followed the counsel 
he had given his broker in advance: "Let but 
Fortune favour us, and the world will sure admire 
our prudence. If we fail, let's e'en keep the 
mishap to ourselves." John Gay, who had lost his 
whole fortune, made no pretensions to the con- 
trary, but with a half-smile published his folly to 
the world : 

Why did 'Change Alley waste thy precious hours 
Among the fools who gaped for golden showers ? 
No wonder if we found some poets there, 
Who live on fancy, and can feed on air; 
No wonder they were caught by South Sea schemes, 
Who ne'er enjoyed a guinea but in dreams; 
No wonder that their third subscriptions sold 
For millions of imaginary gold. 2 

1 See "The South Sea House" in Lamb's Essays of Elia. 

2 See Gay, "Epistles on Several Occasions," VII. To Mr. 
Thomas Snow, Goldsmith, near Temple Bar; A Panegyrick, occa- 
sioned by his buying and selling of the Third South-Sea Subscriptions, 
taken in by the Directors at a thousand per cent. 



ADDISON'S LONDON 147 

The age was arriving at a new attitude toward 
womankind, but only slowly. The women belonged 
to the establishments of which they were daughters 
or wives. Of the great undistinguished throng 
the epitaph inscribed to one was pretty much 
the ideal, "She was born a woman and died a 
house-keeper." Even Dr. Johnson toward the 
end of the century wrote: "Perhaps the most 
perfect feminine mind habitually aims at nothing 
higher than an exemption from blame." The 
decline of Charles's brilliant court removed one 
incentive to feminine activity. In the reign of 
Anne and still more in that of George I, royalty 
was anything but gay. Said Pope, writing to 
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu: "Scarce any ball, 
assembly, basset-table, or any place where two or 
three are gathered together. No lone house in 
Wales with a rookery is more contemplative than 
Hampton Court." As the market for brilliant 
impertinence was thus withdrawn, the chief oppor- 
tunity for women of fashion was to develop into 
vain peacocks of the type of Miss Arabella 
Fermor. Their main occupations were at the 
toilet, the card-table, the assembly, play, and 
opera. Always they were under the scrutinizing 
eye of the public, and were forced to such petty 
artifices to secure innocent conversation with 



148 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

admirers or lovers that they were practically 
badgered either into complete submission or into 
intrigue. 

Here and there striking individuals made some 
attempt at educating themselves beyond the 
ordinary. But they did it in the face of a popular 
prejudice, which was summed up in Lord Lyttle- 
ton's "Advice to a Lady": 

Make not too dangerous wit a vain pretence 

But wisely rest content with modest sense; 

For wit like wine intoxicates the brain, 

Too strong for feeble women to sustain. 

Of those who claim it more than half have none, 

And half of those who have it are undone. 1 

Even when a woman did improve her mind, she 
was the object of such whimsical comment as was 
the Leonora of whose library Addison whim- 
sically wrote: "Upon my looking into the books, 
I found there were some few which the lady had 
bought for her own use, but that most of them had 
been got together, either because she had heard 
them praised, or because she had seen the authors 
of them." In the former class doubtless fell "all 
the Classic Authors in wood. A set of Elzevirs by 
the same hand," together with Newton, Locke, 
and Jeremy Taylor; and in the latter some 

1 Lord Lyttleton. "Advice to a Lady," 1731, 11. 31-36. 



ADDISON'S LONDON 149 

writings of Sir William Temple and Richard 
Steele. Addison concludes by looking upon 
Leonora "with admiration and pity." 1 

One who reads much of the literature of that 
generation is forced to the conclusion that it was 
admiration and contempt which most men felt for 
the ladies. Think of Swift and his Stella and his 
Vanessa; of Pope with his Martha and Patty 
Blount and his Lady Mary and his Duchess Sarah; 
of Steele with his cajoling letters and his consistent 
neglect of "Dear Prue"; of Addison and the 
wealthy widow whom he husbanded in splendid 
discontent. Think of Lady Mary herself, her 
dictatorial father and gracelessly autocratic suitor, 
of the elopement into which she was forced, the 
banishment to the country which she straightway 
suffered, and the strangely forced language of 
passion with which her subsequent suitors paid 
court to her. When a man sits down in cold 
blood and writes, "Pensez quelquefois a moi, et 
sois assuree qu'aucune femme n'a jamais ete 
aimee autant que je vous aime," 2 he must be so 
sure that he is lying as to feel a covert contempt 
for the lady to whom he blithely indites reams of 

1 See the Spectator, No. 37. 

2 See Lady Mary Worthy Montagu by George Paston; from 
letter by M. Remond to Lady Mary, p. 296. 



ISO LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

such extravagance. The generation of men, who 
played with the idea of masculine inferiority in the 
habitual talk of noonday, never deluded them- 
selves for a moment. There is the same relation 
between such discourse and rational talk that 
exists between a minuet and an informal cup of 
tea of a rainy afternoon. 

When Congreve says that the morn is less 
glorious than Sabina's fair eyes and exclaims on the 
many whom her coldness will kill, he is composing 
the sort of stuff he knows Sabina will like. 1 Then 
he turns for relief to his friends to confide in them 
of Lesbia "heavenly fair," the first sight of whom 
filled him with celestial aspiration: 

But soon as e'er the beauteous idiot spoke, 
Forth from her coral lips such folly broke : 
Like balm the trickling nonsense healed my wound 
And what her eyes enthralled her tongue unbound. 2 

Yet a change was assuredly coming. Some few at 
least could appreciate the innate refinement of 
Steele's courtly tribute, "to have loved her was 
a liberal education." By a man of Captain 
Richard's rank such a remark could hardly have 
been made in Dryden's prime. 

1 See Congreve, Poems, ed. Samuel Johnson, "Song," p. 56. 
2 Ibid., "Lesbia," p. 103. 



ADDISON'S LONDON 151 

Illustrative Readings 

Biography and Social History 

Aitken, George A., Life of Richard Steele. 

Besant, Walter, London in the Eighteenth Century. 

Cibber, Colley, Apology for His Life, ed. R. W. Lowe. 

Macaulay, T. B., Essay on Addison. 

Paston, George, Mr. Pope, His Life and Times; 

Lady Mary Worthy Montagu. 
Thackeray, W. M., English Humorists (first four 

essays); The Four Georges (first two). 
Wroth, Warwick, London Pleasure Gardens of the 

Eighteenth Century. 
Contemporary Occasional Poems 

Gay, John, " Epistles (VII) to Thomas Snow," xli, 193. 
Pope, Alexander, "To Miss Blount on Her Leaving 

the Town after the Coronation," xxxiii, 33S. 
Swift, Jonathan, "The Run upon the Bankers," 

xxxix, 189; "South Sea Project, 1721," xxxix, 

200. 
Contemporary Description and Satire 
Addison, Steele, et al., Spectator. 
Gay, John, "Trivia," xli, 99; Eclogues: "Toilette," 

xli, 224; "Tea Table," xli, 228; "Funeral," 

xli, 233. 
Pope, Alexander, "Rape of the Lock," xxxii, 127; 

"A Farewell to London," xxxii, 355; "Moral 

Essays (II). Characters of Women," xxxiii, 105. 
Sheffield, John, Duke of Buckingham, "On the 

Times," xxv, 106. 
Swift, Jonathan, "A Town Eclogue," xxxix, 69; 

"Advice to the Grub Street Verse Writers," 



152 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

xlj 16; "The Furniture of a Woman's Mind," 
xl, 48; "The Journal of a Modern Lady," xl, 71. 

Tickell, Thomas, "Kensington Gardens" (first 50 
lines), xxvi, 200. 

Ward, Edward, The London Spy. 

(The volume and page references above are to John- 
son's British Poets: 1779-81.) 

Fiction (For detailed content of novels see appendix 
on illustrative fiction.) 
Ainsworth, W. H., Jack Sheppard. 
Besant, Walter, Dorothy Forster. 
Brooke, Henry, The Fool of Quality. 
Hugo, Victor, The Man Who Laughs. 
Lytton, Bulwer, Devereux. 
Thackeray, W. M., Henry Esmond. 

Drama 

Centlivre, Mrs. Susanna, The Basset Table; The 

Beaux Duel; The Gamester. 
Cibber, Colley, Woman's Wit (1697); The Nonjuror 

(1717)- 
Congreve, William, The Old Bachelor (1693); Love 

for Love (1695); The Way of the World (1700). 

Farquhar, George, The Constant Couple (1700). 

Fielding, Henry, The Temple Beau (1729). 

Gay, John, The Beggar's Opera (172S). 

Lillo, George, The London Merchant, the History of 
George Barnwell (1727). See also Thackeray's 
Burlesque. 

Southern, Thomas, Hie Maid's Last Prayer (1693). 

Vanbrugh, Sir John, The Relapse (1697); The Pro- 
voked Wife (1698). 




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CHAPTER VI 
JOHNSON'S LONDON 

Between 1750 and 1800 London was rapidly 
becoming a big city. For four miles along the 
north bank of the Thames a dense community 
stretched back considerably beyond the farthest 
point of the old City limits. Southwark was 
almost as large in territory as the London of 
Chaucer's day. On the south bank, from oppo- 
site Charing Cross to beyond the Tower, the river 
front was lined with ugly buildings. To be sure, 
the green fields could be seen behind these, and 
the river, crossed as early as 1760 by added bridges 
at Blackfriars and Westminster, was still a pictur- 
esque highway for the many who preferred it to 
bumping over the rough cobblestones of Fleet 
Street and the Strand. Between 1750 and 1765 
new houses are said to have gone up at the rate 
of over a thousand a year. Old neighborhoods 
retained in their narrow streets the variety of 
gable, and beam and plaster frontage which still 
survives in such buildings as Staple Inn and the 
Inner Temple Gate House; but the new were 
characterized by a severe regularity of flat-roofed 

153 



154 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

brick-and-stone along the broader thoroughfares. 
London was now enough of a metropolis to sub- 
merge the modestly law-abiding and to afford a 
dangerous refuge for the criminal. 

The size of London did not, however, detract 
from its charm for the loyal citizen; rather he 
made a virtue of it. Johnson explained that it 
was "in the multiplicity of human habitations 
which are crowded together, that the wonderful 
immensity of London consists." 1 Boswell in- 
dorsed both himself and his subject when he said : 
"The intellectual man is struck with it, as com- 
prehending the whole of human life, in all its 
variety, the contemplation of which is inexhaust- 
ible." 1 To Burke it was "an endless addition of 
littleness to littleness," yet "clean, commodious, 
neat." 2 Gibbon, more candid, wrote: "Never 
pretend to allure me by painting in odious colours 
the dust of London. I love the dust." 3 The 
great city was all things to all men, a center of 
learning, a well-spring of intellectual pleasures, a 
vast market, an assemblage of taverns, a breeder 
of strong men, a "heaven upon earth." Johnson, 
as usual, gives us the conclusion of the whole 

1 See Boswell, Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill, I, 422. 
'Ibid., Ill, 178, n. 1. 
3 Ibid. 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 155 

matter: "No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, 
he is tired of life; for there is in London all that 
life can afford." 1 

x One of the most representative architectural 
monuments of the period is the Adelphi, an entire 
neighborhood on the edge of the Thames about 
halfway between Charing Cross and the Temple. 
This district was built up by the Adam brothers, 
of whom Robert and James were architects of 
repute, while John and William contributed to 
the scheme more as projectors. The buildings 
are characterized by a rather formal simplicity, 
which marked a reaction against the comparative 
ornateness of Inigo Jones and even of Christopher 
Wren. To such a critic as Horace Walpole, who 
was loyal to the romantic traditions of the past, 
the formalism of these Scotch architects was 
highly unwelcome: "What are the Adelphi 
buildings? Warehouses, laced down the seams 
like a soldier's frill in a regimental old coat." 2 
The canny foresight of this quartet of Scotchmen 
in redeeming a bit of the river front did not in its 
day meet with any appreciation. There was 
enormous room for improvement, as later genera- 
tions have seen. 

1 See Boswell, Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill, III, 178. 

2 See Walpole, Letters, Walpole to Mason, July 29, 1773. 



156 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

The banks of the Thames are occupied by tanners, 
dyers, and other manufacturers, who there have an 
opportunity of easily supplying themselves with water. 
The streets where these manufactures are carried on are 
the dirtiest in the city; the bridges have no prospect of 
the river except through a balustrade of stone, with a 

rail of modillions three feet high In a word, in the 

first excursion which I made, in order to get a survey of 
London, I could not have a full view of the Thames, either 
on the side of the City or on that of Southwark, unless I 
entered the houses and manufactories which stand close to 
the river. The reason which some assign for this is the 
natural bent of the English, and in particular the people 
of London, tow T ards suicide. 1 

But for London to receive even an improvement 
at the hands of men who came from the north of 
the Tweed was an unpleasant experience. 

Four Scotchmen, by the name of Adams, 
Who keep their coaches and their madams, 
Quoth John, in sulky mood, to Thomas, 
Have stole the very river from us! 



Ye friends of George, and friends of James, 

Envy us not our river Thames; 

The princess, fond of raw-boned faces, 

May give you all our posts and places; 

Take all to gratify your pride, 

But dip your oatmeal in the Clyde. 2 

1 See George Paston, Sidelights of the Georgian Period, pp. 176-77. 
Translated from M. Pierre Grosley's London, 1790. 

2 See Foundling Hospital for Wit, ed. 1784, IV, 189. 




THE ADELPHI TERRACE 
Garrick's home and death-place was the right-hand half of the central section 




STAPLE INN, HOLBORN. JOHNSON'S HOME IN 1759 

Two famous buildings which Time has spared 

(From photograDhs) 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 157 

At the present time so far have further 
encroachments on the river been carried on that 
these buildings stand well back of a little park, 
which itself is separated from the river by the 
Victoria Embankment, for here and beyond, upon 
the northern side for a stretch of some four miles, 
London has at last at enormous expense recog- 
nized the error of its ways in a fitting treatment 
of the river front. Of the famous inhabitants of 
the Adelphi in Johnson's period, the one most 
interesting from a literary point of view was 
David Garrick, who occupied a house in the very 
center of the "Terrace" which flanked the river 
above the arches. 

It is more or less of a literary fashion to 
condemn the mid-eighteenth century as a super- 
ficial, worldly wise, and altogether oversophisti- 
cated generation. The natural steps to such a 
conclusion lead from Pope and Addison, via 
Handel, to Chesterfield the diplomat, and Walpole 
the dilettante. Yet, though there is some measure 
of justification for such a verdict, it is quite worth 
while to note that among all the men who exerted 
a wide influence, none are more generally familiar 
today than two homely and unconventional 
commoners — William Hogarth, "that little man 



158 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

in the sky-blue coat," and Samuel Johnson, "the 
respectable Hottentot." 1 Whatever may be the 
chromatic tint which would best recall the color 
of eighteenth-century London, it must be largely 
determined by the primary hues which represent 
the classes for which Lord Chesterfield and 
Horace Walpole stood, and the masses out of 
which Johnson and Hogarth emerged. For the 
eternal conflict was still on, taking form now 
not in such revolutions as marked Dryden's 
lifetime, but in a slow, organic development which 
conferred a fresh status and a new dignity on the 
middle and lower classes. 

About the point of view of the writers, the 
nature of the bulk of their material, and the char- 
acter of the reading public in the first half of the 
century, enough perhaps has been said in a previ- 
ous chapter. A striking index as to the degree 
of democratic sympathy felt by the leaders of this 
generation is contained in a chance observation 
in one of Lord Cobham's letters to Pope: 

I congratulate you upon the fine weather. 'Tis 
a strange thing that people of condition and men of parts 
must enjoy it in common with the rest of the world. 

1 Even though Mr. Birkbeck Hill was correct in his argument 
that Lord Chesterfield did not intend his famous description for 
Dr. Johnson, all the evidence shows that by chance, if not design, 
it was strikingly faithful. See Chesterfield, Letters to His Son, 
February 28 (O.S.), 1751. 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 159 

But a great change had taken place by the 
end of the next half-century. The novel which 
was the narrative form in vogue illustrates this 
by the type of character which it chiefly empha- 
sizes. Richardson, stumbling upon success, made 
his first heroine out of a lady's maid. Fielding, 
starting to burlesque Amelia, presented as his 
central figure her brother, Joseph Andrews. 
Tom Jones, Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, 
and Humphrey Clinker were all men of low 
estate. Goldsmith in a modernized version of the 
Book of Job chose as his hero a vicar in Wake- 
field, who had nothing to commend him except 
his heroism, and gave vent in describing the de- 
serted village of "sweet Auburn" to a fierce 
invective against the mistaken ways of a selfish 
aristocracy. 1 Goldsmith moved in a group which 
was dominated by the son of an up-country shop- 
keeper, but which included in its truly democratic 
roll Edmund Burke, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Topham 
Beauclerk, and Bennet Langton on the same foot- 
ing with himself, the actor Garrick, and the Scotch 
squire James Boswell. 

There was no complete change, of course, dur- 
ing these fifty years; but the evident shift in the 
keynote of the literature suggests what was going 

1 For a poetical account of these developments in literature see 
Part IV of Wordsworth's Crave, by William Watson. 



160 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

on among the people. As it was so strikingly a 
period in which a new social equation was being 
worked out, the best way of coming to a solution 
of it is to establish as nearly as possible the value 
of some of the chief factors, and thus to arrive 
at an understanding of the new product — the 
London of 1775. First, then, for the worldly 
wisdom of the gentlemen who are usually held 
up as the leading exponents of the century. These 
are the men who furnished the material for such 
an admirable generalization as the following: 

[The early eighteenth century] was conventional 
through and through; and its men felt secure from the 
ills of time only when sheltered under some ingenious 

artificial construction of rule and precedent The 

familiar bustle of the drawing-room and coffee-house 
and play-house; or the more exalted life of Parliament 
and Court, the intrigues of State-chambers, the maneuvers 
of the battle-field; the aspects of human activity wherever 
collective man in his social capacity goes through the 
orderly and comprehensible changes of his ceaseless pur- 
suit of worldly happiness and worldly success; these 
were the subjects that for the men of the eighteenth 
century had absorbing charm, .... and to these .... 
they instinctively limited themselves. 1 

One of the most famous of these was Philip 
Dormer, fourth Earl of Chesterfield (1694-1773). 

1 Introduction to Selections from Newman. Edited by L. E. 
Gates. 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 161 

He was born to wealth and position, and educated 
to use them both to the utmost personal advan- 
tage. He enjoyed, particularly in his early years, 
a degree of tact which was always capable of 
keeping in check any honest but unpopular 
convictions that he might entertain, and a 
character which he described to his son by way 
of cataloguing the essentials for statesmanship: 

An absolute command of your temper . . . . ; Ad- 
dress enough to refuse without offending; or, by your 
manner of granting to double the obligation; Dexterity 
enough to conceal the truth without telling a lie ; Sagacity 
enough to read other people's countenances; and Serenity 
enough not to let them discover anything by yours — a 
seeming frankness with a real reserve. These are the rudi- 
ments of a Politician; the world must be your grammar. 1 

He concealed his contempt for the frivolities of 
fashionable life because it was easier to conform 
than refrain. To avoid scandal he observed his 
own moral code : 

A real man of fashion and pleasure observes decency; 
at least neither borrows nor affects vices; and, if he 
unfortunately has any, he gratifies them with choice, 
delicacy, and secrecy. 2 

Always he was studying the privileged people 
with whom he dealt, wary to ascertain their 

1 Chesterfield, Letters to His Son, January 15 (O.S.), 1748. 

2 Ibid., March 27 (O.S.), 1747- 



162 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

weaknesses and discover how to employ their 
friendship or foil their enmity. Yet, withal, he 
felt a real respect for the aristocracy of intellect 
as well as of birth, and testified to it handsomely 
when he wrote : 

For my own part I used to think myself in company as 
much above me, when I was with Mr. Addison and Mr. 
Pope, as if I had been with all the Princes in Europe. 1 

Horace Walpole, fourth Earl of Orford, and 
accomplished foe to Chesterfield, was a nobleman 
of the same type. After securing a genteel 
education, and holding several offices in the gift 
of his father, the greatest statesman of the day, 
he took up his residence at Strawberry Hill (ten 
miles up the river from the City), and made his 
estate as famous as himself by his amiable 
activities there. He cultivated his gardens till 
they "sprouted away like any chaste nymph in 
the metamorphoses." He built himself a little 
Gothic castle, so filling it with works of art that 
he found it worth while to publish a description 
of his home and its contents. He set up his 
own press, printing A Catalogue of the Royal and 
Noble Authors of England, and twenty-odd other 
things chosen from the same aristocratic point of 
view. Meanwhile he cultivated many friendships 

'Chesterfield, Letters to His Son, October 9 (O.S.), 1747- 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 163 

and left behind him hundreds of letters which, 
in conjunction with Chesterfield's, give a fairly 
complete index to the temper and character of 
the social group. 

He wrote, for instance, about the enterprises 
of one Macall, 1 a canny Scotchman who played 
adroitly and profitably on the gambling propen- 
sities of the men and the social ambitions of their 
wives and daughters. From the period of the 
Restoration until the passage of the Gaming Acts 
of 1845 high play was eminently respectable and 
widely popular. Public lotteries flourished from a 
far earlier date, the government securing enormous 
sums for all sorts of good works. Perhaps the 
most properly sponsored undertaking was that of 
which the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord 
Chancellor, and the Speaker of the House of 
Commons acted as managers and trustees when 
in 1753 £100,000 was raised for the British 
Museum Purchase Fund. The proceedings at 
Almack's must have been rather less decorous, 
but much more exciting. 

This club was founded in 1764, when at 
White's — which for years had been the exclusive 
club — gambling was languishing in a losing com- 
petition with political intrigue. The members 

1 This name transposed becomes Almack's — the name of the 
club and the assembly room he conducted. 



1 64 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

were young gentlemen of fashion, Charles James 
Fox setting the pace for them all in gambling 
as well as in statesmanship. On a certain day in 
February, 1771, he delivered a speech in Parlia- 
ment on a religious question after having prepared 
himself, as Gibbon put it, "by passing twenty-two 
hours in the pious exercise of hazard." During 
that protracted game he lost at the rate of £500 
per hour. On the next day he recovered £6,000, 
but later in the week he and his brother between 
them dropped £21,000 in two sittings. Lord 
Stavordale, not yet of age, regained £n,ooo in 
a single play, and then commented on what he 
might have made if he "had been playing deep." 
When Almack's became Brooks's Club (St. James 
Street), the same membership continued. Fox, 
Pitt, Burke, Reynolds, and Walpole were magnets 
strong enough to draw in such sober gentlemen as 
Hume the philosopher and Gibbon the historian. 
They doubtless were welcome; but the goddess of 
chance was far more popular at Brooks's than any 
of the Muses except perhaps Terpsichore. 

It was at Brooks's Club that one homely 
invention was made which has been of practical 
benefit to posterity. The Earl of Sandwich was 
one of the high players who sometimes sat for 
hours without interruption at the table. On one 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 165 

of these occasions, unwilling to leave play, but 
faint from lack of food, he called for a bit of beef 
between two slices of bread, and by this odd 
accident not only appeased his hunger but gave 
his name to an invention which has been popular 
ever since. 

Play was not limited to the men, for organized 
games under polite disguise were carried on in the 
drawing-room of many a grand lady. Scandal 
over Lady Buckinghamshire's bank, newspaper 
publicity, and the threat of an eminent judge 
to expose any convicted offenders in the pillory 
"though they should be the first ladies in the 
land," put an end to flagrant offenses under such 
auspices. In the meanwhile the ladies had 
another diversion which they owed originally to 
Macall. For a hundred years, from 1765 on, but 
especially for the first quarter-century, the balls 
at Almack's assembly rooms (King Street, St. 
James) were the most desirably exclusive of social 
events, the little group of two hundred elect being 
organized from a nucleus of fourteen ladies, the 
inmost of the inner circles. 

All on that magic List depends; 
Fame, fortune, fashion, lovers, friends: 
'Tis that which gratifies or vexes 
All ranks, all ages, and both sexes. 



1 66 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

If once to Almack's you belong, 
Like monarchs you can do no wrong; 
But banished thence on Wednesday night, 
By Jove, you can do nothing right. 1 

It was in this company that the Macaronis 2 
of the day enjoyed their most distinguished 
opportunity to nourish. They were in their prime 
only from 1760 to 1770, and hence are not to be 
judged alone from the abusive satire directed at 
them in the early seventies, when they were in 
their decline. From those comments it would 
appear that these fine gentlemen were brainless, 
effeminate, utterly eccentric, and hardly capable 
of any feeling more ardent than the passion for 
dress. In evidence, such a passage as this from 
The Macaroni Magazine, which compassed its 
career between 1770 and 1773: 

Hats are rising behind and falling before. The blazing 
gold loop and full-moon button are now totally exploded, 
and succeeded by a single narrow looping, broad hat- 
band, and pin's-head button The late stunting 

of coats having promoted the growth of skirts, the pockets 

1 Luttrell, Julia, letter I. 

2 See the Spectator, No. 47. Addison, writing in 1711, refers to 
those "wits whom every nation calls by the name of that dish of 
meat which it loves best: in Holland they are termed Pickled 
Herrings; in France, Jean Pottages; in Italy, Maccaronies; and 
in Great Britain, Jack Puddings." Fifty years later England had 
adopted the Italian name. 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 167 

are capable of holding conveniently a tolerable sized 
muslin handkerchief and smelling-bottle. 

Yet the facts show that Almack's was the 
"Macaroni Club," that their leader was Charles 
James Fox, that they were great travelers, and 
such men of wit that they included among them 
an intimate of Dr. Johnson in the person of Top- 
ham Beauclerk. In dress they were doubtless 
as picturesque as tradition makes them, but in 
character they were more interesting than they 
are sometimes credited with being. Thus when 
Yankee Doodle 

Stuck a feather in his cap, 
And called it Macaroni, 

he must have been in a mood of rather rare com- 
placency. 

For such gentlemen, and such ladies as were 
their friends and companions, special and polite 
diversions were necessary in the summer months — 
diversions which were nowhere better supplied 
than at Vauxhall and Ranelagh. Vauxhall Gar- 
dens were on the Surrey side of the Thames in 
South Lambeth, the better part of a mile up river 
beyond Westminster Abbey. The usual ap- 
proach was by water, for the hire of "a pair of 
oars" was very slight and the trip a pleasant one. 
It was only a few steps from Vauxhall Stairs 



1 68 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

to the simple entrance behind which the enchant- 
ments were to be discovered. The Gardens were 
laid out as early as 1661 and until the death of 
Queen Anne were the gorgeous scene of royster- 
ing carryings-on. Even Pepys was troubled "to 
see the confidence of the vice of the age." With 
the reopening under a new manager in 1732 the 
place became splendidly gay, full of noise, mirth, 
and vulgarity, but almost always within sight 
of at least the horizon line of decorum. High 
life resorted thither to enjoy itself and be seen, and 
low life to gape at what it could see or even to 
indulge in the giddy experience of social stilt- 
walking. 

[So] each spruce Nymph from city counters free 

Sips the frothed syllabub or fragrant tea; 

While with sliced ham, scraped beef, and burnt 

champagne 
Her 'prentice lover soothes his amorous pain. 1 

The term garden seems not to have been the 
misnomer which it is for many a so-called summer 
garden today. There were about eleven acres 
inside the inclosure, a considerable grove, and a 
Dark Walk completely shaded by overarching 
trees. The general equipment of the gardens was 
suggestive of much that one can find today in like 

1 See Canning, "Loves of the Triangles." 




Aiew <f RANELAUGII GARDENS sasssr Clieliea . 





'View «/ YAUX-HALL GARDENS . 



*f 



TWO FAMOUS EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY GARDENS 

(From an old print i 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 169 

resorts. There was a pavilion for a kind of open- 
air musical vaudeville. There was a rotunda for 
use in showery weather. There were temples, 
colonnades, and triumphal arches; a great deal 
of allegorical painting on all hands, imposing 
statuary, brilliant lighting devices — at least for 
those days; imitation ruins, and a waterworks 
wickedly nicknamed the "Tin Cascade"; and 
finally innumerable tables for the serving of 
expensive food. 

\ Horace Walpole gives the circumstantial de- 
tails of one evening's gayety. 1 He tells how the 
party of seven came up river in their barge with a 
"boat of French horns attending," and took their 
places in a conspicuous booth, or box. Of how 
as one detail in their supper they minced seven 
chickens, consuming also "hampers of straw- 
berries and cherries"; and of how they enjoyed 
themselves so thoroughly that from eleven o'clock 
to half-past one they were surrounded by curious 
bystanders. Miss Burney's heroines Evelina and 
Cecilia both visit Vauxhall 2 and behave themselves 
more discreetly than Miss Sparre and "the 
Pollard" Ashe who frisked with Horace Walpole. 

1 See Walpole, Letters — to George Montagu, June 23, 1750. 
Ed. Cunningham, II, 210 ff. 

2 See Evelina, letter XL VI; and Cecilia, chap. vi. 



T70 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

It was here, too, that the Chinese philosopher, 
the Man in Black, Beau Tibbs, Mrs. Tibbs, and 
the Pawnbroker's widow 1 spent their memorable 
evening. The Philosopher, more frank than 
the others, 

found every sense overpaid with more than expected 
pleasure; the lights everywhere glimmering through the 
scarcely moving trees, the full-bodied concert bursting on 
the stillness of the night, the natural concert of the birds 
in the more retired part of the grove . . . . ; the com- 
pany gaily dressed looking satisfaction, and the tables 
spread with various delicacies all ... . lifted me into 

an ecstasy of admiration "Head of Confucius," 

cried I to my friend, "this is fme! This unites rural 
beauty with courtly magnificence!" 

But the rest of the company knew better than to 
give themselves away by any such naivete. The 
widow for a while ventured to enjoy herself until 
finally she 

was fairly conquered in point of politeness It is 

true that she would now and then forget herself and 
confess that she was pleased, but they soon brought 
her back again to miserable refinement. She once praised 
the painting of the box in which we were sitting, but 
was convinced that such paltry pieces ought rather to 
excite horror than satisfaction; she ventured again to 
commend one of the singers, but Mrs. Tibbs soon let her 
know, in the style of a connoisseur, that the singer in 
question had neither ear, voice, nor judgment. 
1 Goldsmith, Citizen of the World, letter LXXI. 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 171 

Vauxhall was not enough. Ten years after 
the reopening, in 1742, Ranelagh was established 
down at Chelsea. This was a kind of "Vauxhall 
under cover," the chief feature of which was a 
circular walk surrounded with refreshment booths 
beneath the great rotunda, one hundred and fifty 
feet across. As with the older resort, people 
liked it or hated it according to their tempers. 
Smollett's Matthew Bramble could not contain 
his impatience: 

What are the amusements of Ranelagh? One-half 
the company are following one another's tails, like so 
many blind asses in an olive mill, where they can neither 
discourse, distinguish, or be distinguished; while the other 
half are drinking hot water under the denomination 
of tea. 1 

But whether for better or for worse the fickle fit 
of fashion decreed Ranelagh to be the proper 
thing, as the newest thing is likely to be, so that 
two years after it was opened Horace Walpole 
wrote that he went every night ; for it had totally 
beaten Vauxhall. " Nobody goes anywhere else — 
everybody goes there." All about the outskirts 
of the city were other spas, wells, and gardens, but 
all were, in however slight a degree, fashioned 

1 See Smollett, Humphrey Clinker, letter of M. Bramble to 
Dr. Lewis, London, May 22; also ibid., Lydia Melford to Letitia 
Willis, London, May 31. 



172 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

after the style of these two, and none could take 
the wall of them. 

These were the places frequented by Londoners 
who merely wished to enjoy themselves without 
regard to social advancement. Mention has 
been made of the bigness of the city as com- 
pared with former generations. Yet it should be 
remembered that as cities of the twentieth century 
go London before 1800 was hardly more than a 
big town. Except for the strip four miles long 
and a half-mile wide, the rest of what is modern 
London was suburban or genuine open country. 
A breath of fresh air was thus within easy reach 
of shopkeepers, apprentices, and artisans, who 
worked in the same streets which are now many 
miles from any visible blade of grass which is not 
inclosed in a public square or park. For these 
people the delights of al fresco entertainment were 
perennial. They went to Marylebone Gardens, 
for instance, to enjoy the music, the fireworks, and 
the simple refreshments. They were present in 
considerable numbers on the evening when Dr. 
Johnson protested because the fireworks were 
postponed. 

This [said the Doctor] is a mere excuse to save their 
crackers for a more profitable company; let us both hold 
up our sticks and threaten to break those coloured lamps, 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 173 

and we shall soon have our wishes gratified. The core of 
the fireworks cannot be injured; let the different pieces 
be touched in their respective centres and they will do their 
offices as well as ever. 1 

And they joined him in smashing the lamps and 
in discovering the uncharitableness of their theory 
when the fireworks justified Mr. Torre by refusing 
to soar heavenward. 

v Most of these lesser gardens made up by the 
prestige of their mineral springs what they lacked 
in elaborateness of architecture and decoration. 
Islington Spa was one of the most famous of 
these. It was established in 1685, made freshly 
popular in 1733 when two of the princesses 
attended regularly, and it was patronized by Lady 
Mary Wortley Montagu ; but in general it existed 
for the people of small means, for whom it had, 
among other advantages, that of being within 
reasonable walking-distance. More popular than 
either was Bagnigge Wells, established on an 
old country residence of Nell Gwynne, with a fine, 
big pumproom, a formal garden, ponds, and 
fountains, and three rustic bridges crossing the 
Fleet River, which flowed through the grounds. 
This was the great parade ground for the third 
estate. 

'See Boswell, Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill, IV, 324. 



174 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Thy arbour Bagnigge, and the gay alcove 
Where the frail nymphs in amorous dalliance rove, 
Where 'prentice youths enjoy the Sunday feast, 
And city madams boast their Sabbath best, 
Where unfledged Templars first as fops parade, 
And new made ensigns sport their first cockade. 

The theater of Johnson's day supplies the 
modern student with a long succession of pictur- 
esque episodes. The continued patronage of 
royalty except for an interval between Charles II 
and Queen Anne had insured the attendance of 
fashionable society. In certain respects the 
theater maintained surprisingly the traditions of 
one and even two centuries earlier. The two 
licensed establishments were under royal grant 
and nominally under royal control. The audience 
was distributed in pit and boxes much as it had 
been two hundred years before. The most pre- 
tentious playgoers still took places on the stage, 
and were still sources of distraction to people 
who really wanted to follow the play. 

As time went on the voice of the people was 
more and more emphatic and more and more 
deferred to; and this was expressed not merely by 
way of applause and vocal disapproval but by the 
sort of violence that was characteristic of the age. 
The pit seems to have regarded the demolition 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 175 

of the harpsichord as a rather conventional ex- 
pression of disapproval, though the beginning of 
hostilities was usually preceded with a request 
that ladies leave the theater. The earlier indiffer- 
ence and even contempt of actors and dramatists 
for the occupants of the cheap places was com- 
pletely changed by the days of Goldsmith and 
Sheridan. In 1755 David Garrick, exhausted by 
the strain of appearing every night, attempted 
to substitute from time to time a very expensive 
pantomime, The Chinese Festival. The Drury 
Lane audience expressed their disapproval em- 
phatically on the first night, but on a repetition 
of the performance, in spite of the King's support, 
the pit overwhelmed the gentlemen in the boxes, 
smashed the harpsichord, clambered on to the 
stage, demolished the scenery, and finished the 
job by breaking all the windows in Mr. Garrick's 
house. 

x Yet the public were loyal and enthusiastic 
in the support of their greatest favorites, when 
these great favorites did as the public wanted. 
Garrick among men was supreme in comedy and 
tragedy, and for years was absolute master of his 
audiences as the first great actor who swept away 
the stilted conventions of the past and really 
held the mirror up to nature. Dr. Johnson on 



176 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

account of his defective seeing and hearing did 
not patronize the theater as he otherwise would 
have. He was inclined somewhat to discount 
the genius of his old friend David except when 
somebody else criticized him, when he became his 
sturdy champion. He was interested in Mrs. 
Siddons, who did herself the honor to call upon 
him the year before his death, and he promised 
that he would "once more hobble out to the 
theatre" whenever she should act the part of 
Catherine in Henry VIII. That was an enor- 
mously impressive evening at Drury Lane Theater 
in 1776, when David Garrick said farewell to the 
stage. "I remember," says one spectator, "that 
more tears were shed when he had finished this 
touching part and the curtain dropped than he 
had ever excited, perhaps, mighty as his control 
might be over the passions of his audience when 
acting a character in the most affecting tragedy." 
Club life of the sort instituted in the lifetimes 
of Addison and Pope by no means declined as the 
century went on. After the informal beginnings 
in coffee-houses and taverns, and the organization 
of White's and Almack's, these were followed as 
early as 1800 by nearly a dozen others. The 
earlier clubs depended little upon elaborateness 
of surroundings, and therefore were able to main- 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 177 

tain themselves on small memberships and negli- 
gible fees. The one great essential was the " club- 
ableness" 1 of its members. 

^The coffee-house of this period which inherited 
the prestige of Will's and Button's was the Bed- 
ford, also of Covent Garden— a place frequented 
by Fielding, Churchill, Hogarth, Goldsmith, and 
Dr. Arne, the musician. As an organization the 
Sublime Society of Beefsteaks was one of the 
finest in its democratic conviviality. It was 
founded in 1735 and included a score of distin- 
guished men who met weekly at the Covent 
Garden Theatre for their beefsteak dinner. At 
the end of their room through a grating in the 
form of a gridiron the fire could be seen, and 
over it the inscription: 

If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well 
It were done quickly. 

Here Hogarth and Churchill again, Garrick, Mr. 
Wilkes, Lord Sandwich, and the Prince of Wales 
ate, drank, and talked together with the rest 
of the twenty members. The chairman of the 
evening was a target for the witticisms of the 
others. The last man elected, regardless of his 

■ See Boswell, Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill, IV, 254, n. 2: "'Bos- 
well,' said he ' is very a clubable man.' " 



178 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

social status, acted as butler and brought the 
wine from the cellar. 

\ Greatest of all was Johnson's special group, 
the Literary Club, enormously exclusive in its 
way, yet sublimely regardless of rank or wealth 
in its membership. Macaulay wrote of that 
famous society: 

The room is before us, and the table on which stand 
the omelet for Nugent and the lemons for Johnson ; there 
are assembled those heads which live forever in the 
canvas of Reynolds. There are the spectacles of Burke 
and the tall, thin form of Langton, the courtly sneer of 
Beauclerk, and the beaming smile of Garrick, Gibbon 
tapping his snuff-box, and Sir Joshua with his trumpet in 
his ear. In the foreground is that strange figure which is 
as familiar to us as the figures amongst which we have 
been brought up, the gigantic body, the huge massy face 
seamed with the scars of disease, the brown coat and the 
black-worsted stockings, the grey wig with the scorched 
foretop, the dirty hands, the nails bitten and pared to the 
quick. We see the eyes and the nose moving with con- 
vulsive twitches, we see the huge form rolling, we hear it 
puffing, and then comes the "No, sir," and "You don't 
see your way through the question, sir." 1 

The London of Johnson's day suffered even 
by comparison with the present in the "choice, 
delicacy, and secrecy" with which it indulged 

1 See conclusion of Macaulay's "Essay on Samuel Johnson," 
Edinburgh Review, September, 1831. 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 179 

itself. Of the court roysterers, enough has already 
been said in an earlier chapter, but they taught 
vicious lessons which the mob was not slow to 
follow. Throughout the century they were a 
terrible, uncontrolled power. Benjamin Franklin 
wrote in 1768: 

Even this capital is now a daily scene of lawless riot. 
Mobs patrolling the streets at noonday, some knocking all 
down that will not roar for Wilkes and liberty; courts of 
justice afraid to give judgment against him; coal heavers 
and porters pulling down the houses of coal merchants 
that refuse to give them more wages; sawyers destroying 
saw-mills; sailors unrigging all the outward-bound ships, 
and suffering none to sail till merchants agree to raise their 
pay; watermen destroying private boats and threatening 
bridges, soldiers firing among the mobs and killing men, 

women, and children While I am writing a great 

mob of coal porters fill the street, carrying a wretch of their 
business upon poles to be ducked for working at the old 
wages. 1 

^ Much of this violence, as Franklin saw it, had 
to do with political or industrial conditions, and 
was no more disorderly and by no means as 
extraordinary as the suffrage demonstrations of 
today. But the smashing instinct often nourished 
in sheer wantonness. If a sailor or wharf hand was 
offended in a public house, he could easily gather 

1 Benjamin Franklin's Memoirs, III, 315, 316. 



i8o LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

assistants and wreck it from top to bottom before 
troops appeared. If, by chance, he were arrested 
for inciting to riot, he could hope to be rescued 
before, during, or after trial. He might even be 
cut down and spirited back to life after dangling 
a few minutes at the rope's end. He might wreck 
a theater if advertised performers defaulted, or a 
factory if he disliked the way it was run. He 
might, and he did, do all these things. And 
more still, for he conspired to rob the very Queen 
in the City streets, marched, thousands strong, 
to serve notice on a King who was neglectful of his 
duties, and held Parliament in siege and destroyed 
most of the prisons in town when led to a frenzy 
of violence under a nobly born fanatic. Hume, 
addressing the King in 1775, had asked how the 
Crown could expect to control colonies at 3,000 
miles' distance when it could not secure the respect 
of English subjects. By 1780 this question had 
acquired an awful pertinence, for the Gordon riots 1 
of that year were almost as overwhelming in their 
seven days' course, as the Great Fire of 1666. 
Starting as an anti-Catholic demonstration, they 
developed into a prolonged and indiscriminate 
frenzy. On the fifth day the terrorists stormed 
and fired Newgate Prison. On the sixth day — 

1 Sec Dickens, Barnaby Radge, chaps, xlviii— lxviii. 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 181 

* I walked with Dr. Scott, to look at Newgate, and found 
it in ruins with the fire yet glowing. As I went by, the 
Protestants were plundering the Sessions-house at the 
Old-Bailey. There were not, I believe, a hundred; but 
they did their work at leisure, in full security, without 
sentinels, without trepidation, as men lawfully employed, 
in full day. Such is the cowardice of a commercial place. 
On Wednesday they broke open the Fleet and the King's 
Bench, and the Marshalsea, and Wood Street Compter, 
and Clerkenwell Bridwell, and released all the prisoners. 
At night they set fire to the Fleet, and the King's Bench, 
and I know not how many other places; and one might 
see the glare of conflagration fill the sky from many parts. 
The sight was dreadful. 1 

Even the reaction to be expected after such an 
outburst did not lead to complete reform. The 
English election then and far into the nineteenth 
century seems almost to have imposed an obliga- 
tion to cut loose. In 1782 a German traveler 
witnessed the boisterous conclusion to "that most 
English of sights," the Westminster election in 
Covent Garden: 

When the whole was over, the rampant spirit of liberty 
and the wild impatience of a genuine English mob were 
exhibited in perfection. In a very few minutes the whole 
scaffolding, benches, and chairs, and everything else, was 
completely destroyed; and the mat with which it had 

1 Boswell, Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill, III, 429. 



182 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

been covered torn into ten thousand long strips or pieces 
or strings; with which they encircled or enclosed multi- 
tudes of people of all ranks. These they hurried along 
with them, and everything else that came in their way, 
as trophies of joy; and thus in the midst of exultation 
and triumph, they paraded through many of the most 
populous streets of London. 2 

If the disorder of the crowd was stimulated 
by the "rampant spirit of liberty," the activities 
of the criminal were encouraged by the futility 
of the police and the clumsy inefficiency of legal 
procedure. The "strong arm of the law" was no 
figure of speech to apply to the eighteenth-century 
London constabulary. Its members were physi- 
cally unfit and its organization so loose that a 
bold malefactor could evade arrest with great 
ease. When culprits were actually brought to 
court, the excessive penalties prescribed for petty 
offenses made prosecutors, witnesses, and magi- 
strates at some times slow to act, and at others led 
to warped judgment and summary procedure. 
If finally the prison doors closed upon a man, he 
found himself in a center of every kind of filth, 
in a stronghold which was disgraced by systems 
of fees and garnishings at once degrading to those 
who had money to pay them and horrid imposi- 

2 Quoted in Eighteenth Century Vignettes, ist ser., by Austin 
Dobson, pp. 222-23. 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 183 

tions on the really poverty-stricken. The still 
surviving savagery of the day displayed itself 
most rampantly in the pelting of victims in the 
pillory and the pursuit of prisoners in the grim 
progress from Newgate up Holborn and what is 
now Oxford Street to the northeast corner of 
Hyde Park, where they were publicly executed 
on Tyburn gallows. 

It was this side of London that "the little man 
in the sky-blue coat" has put in the graphic 
record of his engravings and paintings. Hogarth 
was born at Bartholomew's Close, Smithfield, 
in 1697. His father, a schoolmaster, bequeathed 
him an intellect and London gave him an oppor- 
tunity. He was apprenticed to a silver-plate 
engraver, for whom he designed conventional 
patterns until the monotony drove him almost 
mad. Then, in his own way, he began original 
pictorial work, first for booksellers and afterward 
for himself, in the satirical series which made 
him permanently famous. 1 Conventional designs 
might be well enough for some, but unconven- 
tional criticism was more to his taste. He was a 
very positive character, giving and receiving the 

1 The best known of these were as follows: "The Harlot's Prog- 
ress," six plates; "The Rake's Progress," eight; "The Election," 
four; " Marriage- a-la-Mode," six; "Industry and Idleness," twelve; 
"The Four Times of Day," four. 



184 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

most positive impressions. Those who disliked, 
him were willing to applaud the critic who 
called him "a strutting, consequential little 
man." Others who admired him were better 
satisfied to describe him as "a dauntless, self- 
sufficing, uncompromising spirit." Like Walpole 
and Chesterfield, he was absorbed in watching 
man's "ceaseless pursuit of worldly happiness 
and worldly success," but with a difference. For 
in Hogarth's eyes the pursuit was usually a vain 
one, and the worldly happiness and success were 
purchased at an awful cost to the welfare of the 
community. 

Hogarth's view was no more complete than 
any other satirist's, but it is no wonder in dis- 
cussing the things he had in mind that he should 
not have produced as suavely agreeable an im- 
pression as Addison. The mere difference in 
subject-matter is sufficient to account for the 
difference in effect. Democratic life, with all the 
intensity of the problems which arise from excess 
and from poverty, is bound to supply material 
for a more sober form of art than is the decorous 
misbehavior of the well to do. Hogarth served 
as a complement to Reynolds and Gainsborough, 
just as in an earlier day Jonathan Swift did for 
Addison. 




.. 



W B 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 185 

Yet the closer one studies these panoramic 
plates of Hogarth, the more clear and complete 
is the picture of Hogarth's London which is in 
the background of almost every one of them. 
The moral of the series aside, see how illuminating 
are the twelve scenes of "Industry and Idleness." 
Here is the 'prentice system before our eyes, the 
two younger weavers each playing his title-role 
at the cumbrous looms and each unconscious of 
his master's eye. Here is a church interior with 
the service in progress, and here at the same 
moment in the churchyard a group gambling 
at the tomb's edge. Here is a street scene at 
the sign of "West and Goodchild" (four doors 
from the Fire Monument); and the industrious 
'prentice, now partner and son-in-law to boot, 
feeing the wedding musicians. Here is a banquet 
scene within the hall of his company, the livery- 
men devouring of his bounty, and Goodchild, 
Sheriff of London, pompously dispensing it. Llere 
are a court scene, an execution at Tyburn, and 
finally a Lord Mayor's procession. Here are a 
Grub Street attic, a winter glimpse of Covent 
Garden, the Salisbury Coach overturned at 
Charing Cross, a cock-pit scene, the Southwark 
Fair, an emblematical print of the Lottery. All 
of these, moreover, and all the rest are crowded 



1 86 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

with the detail that repays study — study even 
of the pious moralizations of Dr. Trusler. 1 

Samuel Johnson rarely assumed this Hogar- 
thian attitude, although he knew London from 
bottom to top. To be sure, the first document one 
would naturally turn to, his poem on "London," 
appears to be full of bitter irony. But as a matter 
of fact this was an imitation of the Third Satire 
of Juvenal, and even at that was written only a 
year or so after his arrival in town, when he had 
been more or less overwhelmed with the grim dis- 
covery that 

Slow rises worth by poverty depressed. 

Under the circumstances it is not surprising that 
he should have inveighed at 

the needy villain's general home 
The common sewer of Paris and of Rome, 

or indulged in such an ill-assorted couplet as 

Here falling houses thunder on your head 
And here a female atheist strikes you dead; 

for in 1738 there were certain evidences of decay 
both in domestic architecture and in religion. A 

1 Hogarth Moralized, a Complete Edition .... Accompanied with 
Concise and Comprehensive Explanations of Their Moral Tendency, by 
Reverend Doctor Trusler. 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 187 

man who has felt the terrors, either in experience 
or prospect, of 

Toil, envy, want, the patron and the jail, 

is not likely to be over-charitable in his comments; 
but as fortune became kindlier Johnson developed 
into as fulsome a flatterer of London as any mis- 
tress could have wished. 

There is hardly any other passage in his 
writings in which he comments so at length upon 
his city. As a rule he was inclined to see London 
concretely and to discuss it in terms of very 
definite events or problems or people. Intimate 
as he was with those phases of the city which 
inspired Hogarth, to his most effective work, his 
knowledge seldom moved him to any mood of 
social protest. There seem to have been two 
reasons for this. Temperamentally he inclined 
toward a certain resignation. He might have said 
of the social scheme what he did say in behalf of 
the individual: 

The great remedy which Heaven has put in our hands 
is patience, by which, though we cannot lessen the tor- 
ments of the body, we can in a great measure preserve 
the peace of the mind. 

\ Complementary to this characteristic hue of 
mind, or perhaps a result of it, is the fact that he 



1 88 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

was the most confirmed of Tories. "It was not 
for me," he said when telling of his interview 
with George III in the royal library, "to bandy 
civilities with my Sovereign." 1 With reference 
to affairs of state as far as the King and the King's 
government was responsible for them, Johnson 
was almost ready to declare "whatever is, is 
right." 

We do not need Johnson's comments, however, 
to discover the nature of Johnson's London. The 
record of all his experiences is so complete that 
we can follow him through a series of tableaux 
which start with the time when he was living on 
£30 a year, past the decade from 1748 to 1758 
when he was laying the foundations of his fame 
at Gough Square, Fleet Street; further through 
the seven years in which he consorted with the 
lawyers in Staple Inn, Gray's Inn, and the Inner 
Temple, and on through the last nineteen years 
of his life when he resided in Johnson's Court 
and Bolt Court, and enjoyed the hospitalities 
of the Thrales at Streatham and the pension 
of £300 a year from the Crown. Thus, for 
more than one-third of a century he was living 
in the little district bounded by the river, 
Chancery Lane, Holborn, and the Fleet Market. 

1 Boswell, Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill, II, 135. 



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DR. JOHNSON'S HOUSE IN THE TEMPLE 

(From an old print ) 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 189 

In Mr. Birkbeck Hill's great index to Boswell's 
Life more than five double-column pages are filled 
with the mere references to streets, courts, taverns, 
coffee-houses, clubs, theaters, prisons, summer 
gardens, offices, residences, and churches among 
which the great man moved in his daily round. 
He himself was the most interesting spectacle 
of his day, and he pervaded the city just as he 
pervades any history which deals with the literary 
life of his period. 

His kingdom was in the strip between the old 
City and the fashionable West End. The dis- 
tinguished aristocracy might make as much as they 
chose of the sumptuous region off toward Hyde 
Park, but he was content with the older, simpler 
neighborhood. The greatness of his power is 
demonstrated in the prestige of the club, which, 
forming around him, was quite as exclusive as 
Almack's, much less expensive, and much more 
worth while. Its permanent establishment was 
as great as any of Johnson's achievements, for 
it marked perhaps more emphatically than any 
other one thing in its day the complete emancipa- 
tion of literature from fashion, and the coming 
of a day when neither riches nor poverty could 
of themselves distinguish a member of the republic 
of letters. 



190 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Illustrative Readings 

Biography and Collected Letters 
Boswell, James, Life of Dr. Johnson. 
Chesterfield, Lord, Letters Written to His Son. 
D'Arblay, Madame, Diary and Letters, ed. Austin 

Dobson. 
Dobson, Austin, William Hogarth; Life of Horace 

Walpole. 
Fitzgerald, Percy, Life of David Garrick. 
Macaulay, T. B., "Essays on Madame D'Arblay, 

Johnson, and Walpole." 
Walpole, Horace, Letters, ed. P. Cunningham (9 vols.). 

Special Studies in Social History 

Boulton, W. B., Amusements of Old London (2 vols.) 
(largely relative to the eighteenth century); In 
the Days of the Georges. 

Brereton, Austin, The Literary History of the Adelphi. 

Dobson, Austin, Eighteenth Century Vignettes. 

Paston, George, Sidelights on the Georgian Period. 

Pearson, Norman, Society Sketches in the Eighteenth 
Century. 

Thackeray, W. M., George the Third; English Humor- 
ists (last two essays). 

Contemporary Satire and Description 

Goldsmith, Oliver, The Citizen of the World. 
Hogarth, William, Engravings of. 
Johnson, Samuel, London. 

Social Caricature in the Eighteenth Century, ed. 
George Paston (folio reproductions from Hogarth, 
Rowlandson, and their contemporaries). 



JOHNSON'S LONDON 191 

Fiction (For detailed content of novels, see appendix on 
illustrative fiction.) 

Besant, Walter, No Other Way; The Orange Girl. 

Besant and Rice, James, The Chaplain of the Fleet. 

Burney, Frances, Cecelia; Evelina. 

Churchill, Winston, Richard Carvel. 

Dickens, Charles, A Tale of Two Cities; Bamaby 
Rudge. 

Fielding, Henry, A melia; Tom Jones; Jonathan Wild. 

Fielding, Sarah, David Simple. 

Richardson, Samuel, Clarissa Harlowe; Sir Charles 
Grandison. 

Smollett, Tobias, Ferdinand, Count Fathom; Hum- 
phrey Clinker. 

Thackeray, W. M., Barry Lyndon; The Virginians. 

Drama 

Coleman, George, Sr., The Oxonian in Town (1770); 

The Spleen, or Islington Spa (1776). 
Garrick, David, High Life below Stairs (1759); High 

Life above Stairs (1775). 
Goldsmith, Oliver, The Good-Natured Man (1768). 
Macklin, Charles, Covent Garden Theater (1752). 
Murphy, Arthur, The Apprentice (1756). 
Sheridan, R. B., The School for Scandal (1777); 

The Critic (1779). 



CHAPTER VII 
THE LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 

By the beginning of the nineteenth century 
London had become an enormous metropolis, the 
greater in mere area because it consisted almost 
entirely of comparatively small dwellings not 
more than four floors high, and because the num- 
ber of large parks within the city was supple- 
mented by scores, if not hundreds, of open squares. 
Yet in the main the points of literary interest 
were still in those old parts of town which had 
been traversed by Goldsmith and Addison and 
Milton and even Shakespeare. Of the mere 
vulgar bigness of "this colossal emporium of 
men, wealth, arts, and intellectual power" an 
idea can be gained from that chapter in De 
Quincey's Autobiography which he entitled " The 
Nation of London." As he entered town he was 
almost overwhelmed by "the blind sense of 
mysterious grandeur and Babylonian confusion," 1 
until, on reaching his inn, he discovered that he 
was quite equidistant from Westminster Abbey 
and St. Paul's. After due cogitation, deciding 

1 De Quincey, Autobiography, ed. Masson, chap, viii, p. 182. 
192 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 193 

in favor of the latter, he very likely reached it 
by the familiar route of the Strand, Fleet Street, 
and Ludgate Hill. He might have chosen between 
the Cathedral and the Abbey any time these five 
hundred years. 

v Occasionally, in connection with this period, 
one's attention is caught by the introduction into 
common London life of neighborhoods which in 
former times were regarded as distant outlying 
regions. Leigh Hunt lived in a populous neigh- 
borhood out at Hampstead. The Heath, that 
wild waste in which some of the most thrilling 
of Clarissa Harlowe's adventures were enacted, 1 
was soon to be converted into a park, and Jack 
Straw's Castle, ancient rendezvous of highway- 
men, into a public house. Hampstead was still 
a stage-ride from town, and the intervening 
country still supplied business for gentlemen of 
the road; but apparently they were content with 
small game. 2 Coleridge, during the last sixteen 
years of his life, lodged still farther out, at Mr. 

1 Samuel Richardson, Clarissa Harlowe, ed. Leslie Stephen, 
III, letters LVIII, LIX, and following. 

2 Charles Lamb tells of the mishap of his tailor, who "was robbed 
the other day coming with his wife and family in a one-horse shay 
from Hampstead; the villains rifled him of four guineas, some shillings 
and half-pence, and a bundle of customers' measures, which they 
swore were bank notes." Talfourd, Life and Letters of Charles Lamb, 
chap, iv, letter to Sou they (1798)- 



194 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Gillman's in Highgate. So much for the region 
to the northward. It becomes evident, too, that 
down along the river in Westminster and in 
Kensington the polite and expensive West End 
was slowly and continuously extending itself. 
The City proper was now almost depopulated as 
a residence district, but the stretch from Ludgate 
Circus to Charing Cross was still a haunt for the 
men of letters. This was Lamb's home neighbor- 
hood; Byron was just beyond between Trafalgar 
Square and Hyde Park, and both of them from 
time to time invaded the mid-region between. 

The feelings of these two men for London were 
in utter contrast. To Lamb it was the Elysium 
in which his life was absorbed. 

I have passed all my days in London, until I have 
formed as many and intense local attachments, as any of 
you mountaineers can have done with dead nature. The 
lighted shops of the Strand and Fleet Street; the innumer- 
able trades, tradesmen, and customers, coaches, wagons, 
playhouses; all the bustle and wickedness round about 
Covent Garden; the very women of the Town; the 
watchmen, drunken scenes, rattles — life awake, if you 
awake, at all hours of the night; the impossibility "of 
being dull in Fleet Street; the crowds, the very dirt and 
mud, the sun shining upon houses and pavements, the 
print-shops, the old-book stalls, parsons cheapening 
books, coffee-houses, steams of soups from kitchens, the 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 195 

pantomimes— London itself a pantomime and a mas- 
querade—all these things work themselves into my mind 
and feed me without a power of satiating me. The 
wonder of these sights impels me into night walks about 
her crowded streets, and I often shed tears in the motley 
Strand from fulness of joy at so much life. 1 

But to Byron it was the passing scene of many a 
bitter misadventure, a desert of strangers in 
which society was too often more painful than 
solitude. For Lamb it offered a somber but 
placid threescore years of toilsome straitness, 
with the boyhood of a charity scholar and the 
declining years of a pensioner. For Byron it 
afforded a seat in the House of Lords, and the 
restless prelude to a life of notoriety and dissipa- 
tion, luxury and splendor, spasmodic effort and 
startling success— a meteoric life, wholly inclosed 
in the longer and more conventional career of 
the gentle essayist. 

\ Byron's real experience in London as a man 
lasted only for about seven years, from 1808 to 
18 1 5, though he was born in Holies Street, 
Cavendish Square, and was frequently brought 
to town for short visits in boyhood and youth. 
All of his residences were in the extremely fashion- 

1 Talfourd, Life and Letters of Charles Lamb, chap, vii, letter 
to Wordsworth, January 30, 1801. 



196 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

able district within a few score yards of Piccadilly, 
the three-quarter-mile stretch from Piccadilly 
Circus on Regent Street to the southeast corner 
of Hyde Park. While here he published the works 
which won him popular fame. From St. James's 
Street he drove down across St. James's Park to 
take his seldom occupied seat in the House of 
Lords, and from No. 13, Piccadilly Terrace, he 
left London, pursued by the shrill execrations of 
Mrs. Grundy. 

However lonely he may have been in his 
repugnance to London as a whole, he was appar- 
ently happy in the welcome extended him in the 
two houses where literature and exclusive society 
joined hands. The first of these belonged to 
his famous neighbor, Samuel Rogers, the banker, 
poet, and patron of the arts. For more than 
fifty years from 1800 on Rogers made it his 
avocation to play host. Joanna Baillie, Charlotte 
Bronte, Thomas Campbell, Frances Burney, the 
elder DTsraeli, Thomas Moore, Irving, Scott, 
Southey, Wordsworth, Dickens and all his group — 
these are the mere beginnings of the list of literati 
who lifted Rogers' knocker. And among them in 
his day was Byron. "If you enter his house," 
wrote the author of Don Juan, " his drawing room, 
his library, you of yourself say, this is not the 




o s 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 197 

dwelling of a common mind. There is not a gem, 
a coin, a book thrown aside on the chimney-piece, 
his sofa, his table, that does not bespeak an almost 
fastidious elegance in the possessor." Rogers' 
house was the home of genial informality. People 
could drop in singly or in small groups and be sure 
of enjoying clever chat which was not always free 
from acidity. Washington Irving, writing to 
Moore about their common host, said in 1824: 
" I dined tete-a-tete with him some time ago, and 
he served up his friends as he served up his fish, 
with a squeeze of lemon over each. It was very 
piquant, but it rather set my teeth on edge." 

\At Holland House, in contrast, where Rogers 
himself introduced Byron, the scale of things, as 
well as the temper of Lady Holland, was in part 
responsible for a more exalted level of talk. 
Animadversions that would rise to the lips in 
a city house with a thirty-foot front were not 
apt to feel perfectly at home in "a venerable 
chamber in wdiich all the antique gravity of 
a college library was blended with all that 
female grace and wit could devise to embellish 
a drawing-room." 1 Moreover, the "female grace 
and wit" that presided over this salon were the 
possessions of a suavely dictatorial lady who 

1 See Macaulay's essay on Lord Holland, 1841. 



198 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

had a very definite idea of the narrow channel 
within which she wanted the talk to run, and 
quickly dammed up any threatened breach in 
the banks. As a result the conversation was 
more classic and less racy than that under 
Rogers' roof. 

Holland House itself has had an interesting 
history. It is a modern structure in comparison 
with many of London's landmarks, yet it was 
built in 1607, the year when the first of the thir- 
teen colonies was founded. It is an elaborately 
complicated mansion of which an unamiable 
remark by Sir Walter Scott was more than half 
justified when he said "it resembles many re- 
spectable matrons who, having been absolutely 
ugly during youth, acquire by age an air of dig- 
nity." It stands unchanged today in a noble 
stretch of open grounds a half-mile southwest of 
Kensington Gardens. When it was under con- 
fiscation during the Protectorate, Cromwell with- 
drew here to take counsel with his lieutenants; 
Addison, in the unhappy prosperity of his latest 
years, lived here as its master from 17 16 to his 
death in 17 19; but Holland House was in the 
heydey of its fame in the first half of the nine- 
teenth century when Lord and Lady Holland 
entertained with such eclat that the youthful 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 199 

Lord Byron was drawn naturally into their circle. 
Naturally, and yet somewhat surprisingly, for 
had not all parties concerned been willing to 
forget certain bitter lines 1 in "English Bards," 
Byron and the Hollands would never have known 
each other as friends. 

It was two days after the delivery of Byron's 
maiden speech in the House of Lords, in the prepa- 
ration of which Lord Holland had advised him, 
that the publication of Childe Harold made him 
the lion of the day. The first edition was sold 
off in a little over a week. Everybody wanted to 
meet him, from the Crown Prince and Beau 
Brummel down; and then the fascinations of 
popularity in a day when court morals had 
degenerated to the Restoration level made an 
easy conquest of him. His writing, though 
abundant at this time, was incidental. "What 
do the reviewers mean by ' elaborate ' ? Lara I 
wrote while undressing, after coming home from 
balls and masquerades in the year of revelry 

1 Dunedin! view thy children with delight, 
They write for food — and feed because they write: 
And lest, when heated with the unusual grape, 
Some glowing thoughts should to the press escape, 
And tinge with red the female reader's cheek 
My lady skims the cream of each critique; 
Breathes o'er the page her purity of soul, 
Reforms each error, and refines the whole. 

See entire passage, 11. 541-60. 



200 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

1 8 14." Of his own surroundings he has written 
explicitly. 1 

Some 
Talk about poetry and "rack and manger," 
And ugliness, disease, as toil and trouble; — 
I wish they knew the life of a young noble. 

They are young, but know not youth — it is 

anticipated 
Handsome but wasted, rich without a sou ; 
Their vigor in a thousand arms is dissipated; 
Their cash comes from, their wealth goes to, a 
Jew. 

These and the less savory lines that follow 
describe his life from 181 1 to 18 14 — a life con- 
ventionalized and actually sanctioned by the 
society of his day. It was under the influence 
of the Regent who was to become George IV, 
a gentlemen concerning whose character the 
comments of Shelley and Thackeray 2 have left 
us little to doubt. His vanity, self-indulgence, 
and general laxity of character made him the 
rival of Charles II, and surrounded him with a 
group of people whose morals were hardly superior 
to those of the Restoration group. Most pictur- 
esque of them all was Beau Brummel, a man of 

1 Don Juan, XI, 74, 75. 

2 Thackeray, Four Georges: George the Fourth; and Shelley, 
Oedipus Tyrannus, or Swcllfoot the Tyrant. 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 201 

middle-class origin, who by his extraordinary 
arrogance succeeded in making himself the leader 
of the elect for nearly twenty years. With his 
pet companions he took possession of White's, 
and made his own throne-room the bay window, 
which not even other members of the club pre- 
sumed to enter. The Regent, until the time of 
their estrangement, was a frankly secondary figure 
in the group, though his presence was responsible 
for its prestige and for the high esteem in which 
low morals were consequently held. 

I can see old gentlemen now among us, of perfect 
good-breeding, of quiet lives, with venerable gray heads, 
fondling their grandchildren; and look at them, and 
wonder at what they were once. That gentleman of the 
grand old school, when he was in the 10th Hussars, and 
dined at the Prince's table, would fall under it night after 
night. Night after night that gentleman sat at Brookes's 
or Raggett's over the dice. If, in the petulance of play 
or drink, that gentleman spoke a sharp word to his 
neighbor, he and the other would infallibly go out and 
try to shoot each other the next morning. That gentle- 
man would drive his friend Richmond the black boxer 
down to Moulsey, and hold his coat, and shout and swear, 
and hurrah with delight, whilst the black man was beat- 
ing Dutch Sam the Jew. That gentleman would take a 
manly pleasure in pulling his own coat off and thrashing 
a bargeman in a street row. That gentleman has been in 
a watch-house. That gentleman, so exquisitely polite 



202 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

with ladies in a drawing-room, so loftily courteous, if he 
talked now as he used among men in his youth, would 
swear so as to make your hair stand on end. 1 

The fact that Byron was suddenly and violently 
ostracized by the society of which such as these 
were the fine flower was a mere accident arising 
from his celebrity and the consequent notoriety 
of his marital troubles. These fitful spasms of 
outraged respectability occur from time to time 
all along the course of social history among those 
very people who, as a rule, overlook or indorse 
"the short and simple scandals" of averagely 
inconspicuous rakes and rogues. After his twenty- 
seventh year Byron knew London no more. 

As one turns from Byron to Lamb he makes 
his way eastward, past Trafalgar Square, Charing 
Cross, the Strand, and Temple Bar, which was 
still standing, to the old City. Few men have 
actually spent more time than Charles Lamb 
within the precincts of the Temple, for he was 
born and passed the first seven years of his life 
here, and later returned to live consecutively 
from 1800 to 181 7. In his essay on "The Benchers 
of the Inner Temple" he gives an impression of 
the quality and atmosphere of the great collec- 
tion of courts and buildings as it appeared to him, 

'Thackery, Four Georges, George the Fourth. 




FLEET STREET AXD TEMPLE BAR AS LAMB KNEW THEM IN BOYHOOD 

(From Ackermann's Repository of Arts) 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 203 

a resident; the wider suggestiveness of the superb 
establishment as a treasure-house of noble memo- 
ries has been dwelt upon by Thackeray in Pen- 
dennis. 1 Lamb conjures up to view "its church, 
its halls, its garden, its fountain .... its mag- 
nificent ample squares, its classic green recesses." 
He tells of the terrace, or parade, on which the 
old benchers used to strut in solemn state; of 
such exponents of the law as Samuel Salt, Thomas 
Coventry, and Peter Pierson, who embodied the 
dignity of the Temple; and of such faithful 
servitors as Lovel, who guarded the interests of 
the dignitaries. As to what an important con- 
tributor to the traditions of the Temple Charles 
Lamb himself was he naturally writes very little ; 
but his friends have taken care in their letters and 
more formal memorials not to allow him and his 
hospitality to be forgotten. As literary gathering- 
places the tavern of the early eighteenth century, 
and the coffee-house and club which supplanted 
it, seem both to have yielded the palm in the early 
nineteenth century to private hospitality. At 
any rate the literary gatherings in Lamb's day, 
which correspond to those in which Ben Jonson 
and Dryden and Addison and Goldsmith figured, 
were held in homes rather than public places. 

1 Pendennis, chaps, xxviii, xxix, and especially xlix. 



204 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Those at Holland House, at Lady Blessington's, 
and at Samuel Rogers' were the most sumptuous, 
but the simpler evenings at Forster's in Lincoln's 
Inn Fields and with Charles and Mary Lamb in 
the Inner Temple were no less memorable. 1 Of 
his earliest Temple quarters at the upper end of 
King's Bench Walk, Lamb had said : 

I shall have all the privacy of a house without the 
encumbrance, and shall be able to lock my friends out 
so often as I desire to hold free converse with my immortal 
mind, for my present lodgings resemble a minister's levee. 2 

Yet he seems to have been incorrigibly hospitable, 
for his Wednesday evenings and indeed most of 
his other evenings belonged finally to his visiting 
friends. The best record is of his rooms at 4 Inner 
Temple Lane — a simple home with low ceilings, 
an open fire, worn furniture, and Hogarth prints 
about the walls. The evening began with cards — 
whence his characteristic comment, "M., if dirt 
was trumps, what hands you would hold !" Later 
the theater group, including play-goer, critic, 
actor, and manager, would drop in. Food and 
drink were substantial and the talk became more 
spirited as plate and glass were emptied. Con- 

1 Talfourd, Final Memorials of Charles Lamb, chap, ix, see 
"Lamb's Wednesday Nights Compared with the Evenings at 
Holland House." 

•'Talfourd, chap, v, letter to Manning (1S00). 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 205 

versation was uncontrolled by anything except 
the nature of the speakers, but it was full of the 
subjects which are unseen and eternal. There 
was less politics than philosophy, more gravity 
than mirth; on the whole, that intermixture of 
these and other elements that one would expect 
to find in a group which included Hunt, Hazlitt, 
Charles Kemble, Talfourd, Coleridge, and Words- 
worth, and was presided over by Charles Lamb. 1 
Perhaps it is true that "only antiquarians and 
literary amateurs care to look at" the Temple 
precincts "with much interest," but to them 
there is quiet fascination not only in crossing the 
courts trod by such pleasant fictions as Sir Roger 
de Coverley and the Spectator, but in saunter- 
ing among the quiet and devious passages which 
led to quarters occupied by Johnson and Gold- 
smith and Lamb and Thackeray. 

\The experiences at Christ's Hospital, which 
"Elia" has recorded in two essays, have gone far 
to dignify the school, though the picturesque dress 
of the "Blue Coat" boys as they wear it even 
today 2 prevents either Londoner or casual visitor 

1 See "Lamb's Wednesday Nights," etc. 

2 The essays are "Recollections of Christ's Hospital" and 
"Christ's Hospital Five-and-Thirty Years Ago." The dress is a 
blue coat or gown, a red leather girdle, yellow stockings, and a clergy- 
man's band around the neck. 



206 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

from forgetting this famous foundation of Edward 
VI. Like Charterhouse it was originally the site 
of a monastery, the land a gift to the Franciscans 
by one John Ewin in 1225. His reward, the 
prefix Saint, served apparently as the equivalent 
of a modern honorary A.M. The buildings and 
their contents were presented by common citizens, 
lord mayors, nobles of high degree, and even 
royalty. In the dissolution of the monasteries 
Greyfriars was not spared, the church edifice for 
a long time serving for the two parishes of St. 
Ewin and St. Nicholas Shambles. A dozen years 
before Shakespeare's birth it was repaired for the 
benefit of the "poor fatherless children and others " 
in whose behalf Edward made his endowment. 
Though it was in the extreme northwest angle 
of the city, just north of Newgate Street, the 
Great Fire of 1666 reached and passed it, even 
o'erleaping the wall in this district. The re- 
building which followed in 1680 and the sub- 
sequent years put Christ's Hospital into the 
general shape in which the seven-year-old Charles 
Lamb found it when he entered in 1782. 

The gentle "Elia" is a little amusing in his 
ingenious attempts to show that Christ's Hospital 
was not a "charity school" for foundlings and the 
children of the poor. If circumlocution were all 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 207 

that was necessary, the trick would be turned in 
the sentence which explains that the school 
served "to comfort the desponding parent with 
the thought that, without diminishing the stock 
which is imperiously demanded to furnish the 
more pressing and homely wants of our nature, 
he has disposed of one or perhaps more out of a 
numerous offspring." He points out that the 
establishment was antique and magnificent in its 
appointments, generous and attentive in its care 
of the hundreds of boys — and then spoils all by 
referring to them as "sons of charity." So they 
truly were, Charity acting in loco parentis while 
they were in her keeping. " Boy !" said the famous 
master, James Boyer, to little Samuel Coleridge 
when he was crying, the first day of his return 
after the holidays, "Boy! the school is your 
father! Boy! the school is your mother! Boy! 
the school is your brother! the school is your 
sister! the school is your first cousin, and your 
second cousin, and all the rest of your relations! 
Let's have no more crying." 

There is no account of Christ's Hospital which 
rivals in length and loving kindness the one 
presented by Leigh Hunt in his autobiography. 1 

1 See Autobiography of Leigh Hunt, London, i860, chaps, iii 
and iv, pp. 49-106. 



208 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

He tells in detail the theory of the school, its 
medial position "between the patrician preten- 
tiousness of such schools as Eton and Westminster 
and the plebeian submission of the Charity 
schools." He displays pride in its democratic 
membership and more pride in the prestige of its 
products, of whom Coleridge and Charles Lamb 
were the greatest. All this, however, together 
with the arrangement of wards, the dress, the 
daily routine, the organization of the five schools, 
could be found in any good cyclopedia. The 
human quality of the institution is the feature 
which Hunt develops best. He presents the 
Monitors the Grecians, and the Deputy Grecians 
— the great gods of the school. He pictures the 
evening preachers — Mr. Sandiford, who "had a 
habit of dipping up and down over his book like a 
chicken drinking" and was no more audible than 
Mr. Salt, who "might as well have hummed a 
tune to their diaphragms!" And he contrasts 
these with two other nameless clergymen, "one 
of them with a sort of flat, high voice, who had a 
remarkable way of making a ladder of it," and 
the other of whom was hailed with delight by 
the boys because he read the prayers so fast. 
He presents the undergrammar master, Mr. Field, 
a harmless dilettante, and the tyrant Boyer, who 




o _ 
w 9 



X 3 

u E 

H 2 

w 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 209 

even in far retrospect seemed to fill him with 
horror. Poor little stammering Hunt had been 
bred to a sensitiveness which was a poor prepara- 
tion for the violence of his schooldays, and yet 
he seemed to look back upon them all with a 
surpassing affection as he wrote about them in the 
story of his life. 

Lamb also recalls some of the reasons for tears 
in the underfeeding and underheating, the mis- 
treatment by monitors, and the horrors which 
came to the innocent through the public punish- 
ments of the guilty. On the whole, however, 
with him too the more genial memories held 
sway, and most of all those which had to do 
with the various pageantries which punctuated 
their calendar: 

Our visits to the Tower, where, by ancient privilege, 
w r e had free access to all the curiosities; our solemn 
processions through the city at Easter, with the Lord 
Mayor's largess of bunns, wine, and a shilling, and the 
festive questions and civic pleasantries of the dispensing 
Aldermen, which were more to us than all the rest of the 
banquet; our stately suppings in public where the well- 
lighted hall and the stately confluence of well-dressed 
company who came to see us made the whole look more 
like a concert or assembly than a scene of plain bread and 
cheese collation; the annual orations upon St. Matthew's 
Day .... our hymns and anthems and well-toned 
organ; the doleful tune of the burial anthem chanted 



210 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

in the solemn cloisters upon the seldom occurring funeral 
of some school-fellow; the festivities at Christmas. 

The school friendship of Addison and Steele at 
Charterhouse in the late seventeenth century was 
no more notable than that of Lamb and Coleridge 
at the neighboring Christ's Hospital about one 
hundred years later. 

The passage from school to a clerk's desk was 
made easy by a friend of one of the Old Benchers 
of the Inner Temple. For nearly six months 
Charles worked in the South Sea House, which 
years later became the subject of the opening 
essay of Elia. Nearly three-quarters of a century 
had passed since the pricking of the famous South 
Sea Bubble, the most famous of "get-rich-quick 
schemes"; but in the old house of trade some 
forms of business were still followed through, 
and the Blue Coat boy for a while joined the 
"Noah's Ark." "Odd fishes. A lay monastery. 
Domestic retainers in a great house kept more 
for show than use. Yet pleasant fellows, full of 
chat — not a few among them had arrived at 
considerable proficiency on the German flute." 

The East India House, in which he served for a 
third of a century, leaving it only as "a super- 
annuated man," was a very different sort of 
institution, more conservative and longer lived, 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 211 

the greatest trading-house of its sort ever es- 
tablished. Here for weary years except for 
Sundays, two short holidays, and one poor little 
week's outing, he lived other people's lives rather 
than his own. The short walk to and from work 
was at first his own, but as friends and acquaint- 
ances increased, afternoon breathing spells as well 
as all his evenings were taken from him. So the 
solitary morning walks became like "treading on 
sands of gold," and in despair of ever finding 
solitude he wrote, "I am never C. L. but always 
C. L. and Co." 

Once well installed in his India House clerkship, 
Charles Lamb settled down into quiet content. 
It was a long climb to a firm and comfortable 
perch on top of his high stool, for the first three 
years were without pay and the next five at a very 
modest wage; but from 1800 on, between his 
salary, his perquisites, and his private resources 
he was in no danger from the wolf, and actually 
much more comfortable in his mind about money 
matters than was the spendthrift Byron. If he 
had been unhappy in his long routine he never 
could have written as he did in grateful acknowl- 
edgment "to the kindness of the most munificent 
firm in the world." Moreover, all during these 
thirty-odd years he had plenty of diversion. 



212 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

There was, for instance, the theater. With his 
sister he went on many a night, delighting in the 
cry of "Bill of the Play!" in the smell of the links 
on the way, in the "roar of hoarse voices round 
the door and mud-shine on the pavement," in 
the first strains of the preliminary music, and in 
the leisurely settling in place for the delights of 
the evening. 

He may possibly have been at Covent Garden 
during the seventy-one nights in the autumn of 
1809 when the Old Price Riots were in progress. 
John Kemble in rebuilding the theater had pro- 
posed among other alterations to put in a number 
of private boxes and to raise the prices of seats in 
the pit and gallery. The pit and gallery had 
something to say about this. For three full 
months not a single performance could be heard. 
The ingenuity of the town was taxed for fresh 
noise-making devices and the certainty that no 
voice could be audible resulted in the adoption 
of signs which were flaunted by the champions of 
the two parties. At times the whole house would 
indulge in what was called the O.P. Dance — a 
military stamping in unison. The rise of the 
curtain was a sign for the audience to turn their 
backs and view the fun in front of the footlights. 
No arrests were possible. No arguments pre- 




U « 



w g 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 213 

vailed, and finally the Old-Price rioters won their 
point, Kemble surrendered, all court actions were 
withdrawn, and the British public had their 
way. 

So much has to be said of the horrors of prison 
experience in London that it is a relief to encounter 
the strange account of Leigh Hunt's two years 
under lock and key at Horsemonger Lane. The 
jailer was eccentric and only negatively venal. 
The under- jailer, a frightful man to look at, 
seems to have been rarely sympathetic. Hunt 
was not in good health, could not brook the 
confinement in the meaner parts of the prison, and 
was not able to receive special authorization to 
move into the jailer's house; but he did by 
indirection secure permission to go to the prison 
infirmary, and here he secured possession of a 
ward. This 

I turned into a noble room. I papered the walls 
with a trellis of roses; I had the ceiling coloured with 
clouds and sky; the bared windows I screened with 
Venetian blinds; and when my book-cases were set up 
with their busts, and flowers and a pianoforte made their 
appearance, perhaps there was not a handsomer room on 
that side the water. I took a pleasure, when a stranger 
knocked at the door, to see him come in and stare about 
him. The surprise on issuing from the Borough, and 
passing through the avenues of a gaol, was dramatic. 



214 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Charles Lamb declared there was no other such room, 
except in a fairy tale. 1 

Outside of this was a garden big enough for real 
exercise. As the prisoner went to this, he dressed 
himself as if for a long walk, and setting forth 
requested his wife not to wait dinner if he came 
late. For his wife and family were with him, 
and with his books about him his faithful friends 
almost daily in attendance, and generous offers 
of money coming from various sides, he spent 
two years in the midst of comforts, which though 
they themselves illustrated the rottenness of 
prison justice, showed that an experience behind 
the bars was not always one of unrelieved horror. 
Charles Lamb visiting Leigh Hunt in a rose- 
bowered prison with a private garden — it does 
not sound very real; but it was like much of 
Lamb's experience. He transformed his own 
circumstances and enjoyed so thoroughly the 
fruits of his own imaginings that he lost sight of 
the sordid and the vicious. He did not close his 
eyes; he simply did not see. All the while he 
was under the spell of London. In passages 
strangely like similar songs by Whitman, quiet, 
methodical, whimsical Charles Lamb chants the 
paean so often recurring in the pages of the 

1 See Autobiography of Leigh Hunt, London, i860, p. 238. 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 215 

American "nondescript monster, which yet had 
terrible eyes and a Buffalo strength." 

Streets, streets, streets, markets, theatres, churches. 
Covent Gardens, shops sparkling with pretty faces of 
industrious milliners, neat seamstresses, ladies cheapening 
[i.e. bargaining], gentlemen behind counters lying, authors 
in the streets with spectacles, .... lamps lit at night, 
pastry-cooks' and silversmiths' shops, beautiful Quakers 
of Pentonville, noise of coaches, drowsy cry of mechanic 
watchmen at night, with bucks reeling home drunk; if 
you happen to wake at midnight, cries of Fire and Stop- 
thief; inns of court, with their learned air, and halls, and 
butteries, just like Cambridge colleges; old book-stalls, 
Jeremy Taylors, Burtons of Melancholy, and Religio 
Medicis on every stall. These are thy pleasures, O Lon- 
don with-the-many-sins. 1 

V Writing to Wordsworth, Lamb confessed — 
almost boasted, that, compared to the town, the 
country was meaningless to him; but when 
Wordsworth sojourned "in London's vast do- 
main," 2 the spirit of nature was upon him even 
there, so that the metropolis was like " the meanest 
flower" in being full of inexpressible significance 
to him. Viewing the city as a visitor, as is often 
true of the discriminating traveler, he obtained a 
clearer synthetic idea of what it all meant than 

1 Talfourd, chaps, iv and v, letters to Manning (1S00). 

2 Wordsworth, Prelude, Book VII, "Residence in London." 



216 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

most of its residents had. He saw the main show- 
buildings, visited the museums and galleries, floated 
along on the endless stream of people, and specu- 
lated on the mysteries hidden behind all these 
passing faces. He went to Vauxhall, Ranelagh, 
and Sadler's Wells, to all sort of plays at all sorts 
of theaters; and then from these entertainments 
"to others titled higher," such as the law courts, 
the House of Commons, and Bartholomew Fair. 
They were all full of meaning to him — equally 
with a poor artisan holding a sickly child for a 
moment stolen from work, and a beggar, blind 
and labeled. For every one of these chance 
sights the "huge fermenting mass of humankind" 
served as a solemn background against which 
their general relationship to the whole scheme 
of things seemed to be made clear. In all the 
chaos of apparently unrelated trivial objects he 
felt an under sense of that "something far more 
deeply interfused" which made forest solitudes 
and city streets alike tremulously full of half- 
revealed mystery. Charles Lamb was affected 
to tears by the torrent of humanity pouring 
through the Strand. Wordsworth was strangely 
moved in moments when the tide of life was still, 
and the streets were empty. Never was his soul 
more deeply stirred among his own retreats than 



LONDON OF LAMB AND BYRON 217 

when he composed these lines upon Westminster 
Bridge: 

\ Earth has not anything to show more fair: 
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by 
A sight so touching in its majesty: 
This City now doth, like a garment, wear 
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, 
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie 
Open unto the fields, and to the sky; 
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air 
Never did sun more beautifully steep 
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill; 
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep: 
The river glideth at his own sweet will : 
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; 
And all that mighty heart is lying still! 

Illustrative Readings 

Biography and Social History 

Byron, Lord, Life, Letters, and Journals of, ed. 

Thomas Moore; Letters and Journals of, ed. R. E. 

Crothers (6 vols.). 
Clayden, P. W. , Rogers and His Content poraries (2 vols.) . 
De Quincey, Thomas, Autobiography. 
Hunt, Leigh, Autobiography. 
Lucas, E. V., Life of Charles Lamb. 
Macaulay, T. B., Essays for Edinburgh Review: 

" Byron" (1S31); "Leigh Hunt" (1841); and 

"Lord Holland" (1841). 
Talfourd, Thomas N., Life and Letters of Charles 

Lamb; Final Memorials of Charles Lamb. 
Thackeray, W. M., George the Fourth. 



218 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Contemporary Description and Satire 

Lamb, Charles, In Essays of Elia: "The South Sea 

House"; "Recollections of Christ's Hospital"; 

"Christ's Hospital Five-and-Thirty Years Ago"; 

"The Old Benchers of the Inner Temple"; "A 

Complaint of the Decay of Beggars in the 

Metropolis"; "The Superannuated Man." 

Shelley, P. B., Oedipus Tyrannus, or Swellfoot the 

Tyrant. 
Wordsworth, William, The Prelude ("Residence in 
London," Book VII); "Sonnet Written on 
Westminster Bridge." 

Fiction 

Besant, Walter, St. Katherine's by the Tower. 
Doyle, Conan, Rodney Stone. 

Drama 

Cobb, James, Poor Old Drury (1791); Poor Covcnt 

Garden (1792). 
Coleman, George, Jr., Poor Old Haymarket (1792). 
Cowley, Mrs. H., The Town before You (1795). 
Eyre, E. J., High Life in the City (1S10). 
Fitch, Clyde, Beau Brummel (1890). 
Jackman, Isaac, The Man of Parts, or a Trip to 

London, (17S5). 
Jamison, R. F., Living in London (1S15). 
O'Keeffe, John, Tony Lumpkin in Town (1772); The 

London Hermit (1793). 
Tobin, John, The Faro Table (18 16). 
Wallace, Lady, The Ton, or the Follies of Fashion 

(1788). 



CHAPTER VIII 

DICKENS' LONDON 

It is hard to generalize upon the London of 
Dickens' day. It is too near to the present and 
too much is known about it. Every generaliza- 
tion is in a fair way to be snowed under by a 
multitude of exceptions, so that each historian 
is disposed to dissent from all the others and to 
doubt his own conclusions as well. At the worst, 
however, there are a few features which are 
assented to even by the doctors who disagree. 
Chesterton protests 1 against Gissing's assertion 
that "the world in which Dickens grew up was 
a hard and cruel world"; but Chesterton takes 
no exception to the mention of "its gross feeding, 
its fierce sports, its fighting and foul humor," 
asking only that we do not forget the "wind of 
hope and humanity" that was blowing through 
the period. 

\For evidence of the feeding and fighting, the 
fierceness and foulness, one need go no farther 
than Pierce Egan's Life in London; or, The 
Rambles and Adventures of Bob Tally ho, Esq., and 

1 G. K. Chesterton, Charles Dickens, a Critical Study, chap. i. 
219 



220 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

His Cousin the Hon. Tom Dashall, through the 
Metropolis, Exhibiting a Living Picture of Fashion- 
able Characters, Manners, and Amusements in 
High and Low Life. The first part of this appeared 
in 182 1 when Dickens was nine years old. It 
became widely popular, was dramatized for Lon- 
don and New York, was variously imitated, and 
was concluded by Egan with further adventures 
"in and out of London" in 1828. 1 The beau 
ideal of Tom and Bob is described as a man who 
"can drink, swear, tell stories, cudgel, box, and 
smoke with any one; having by his intercourse 
with society fitted himself for all companions." 2 
The life of a frolicsome fellow is a program of 
"swearing, tearing — ranting, jaunting — slashing, 
smashing — smacking, cracking — rumbling, tum- 
bling — laughing, quaffing — smoking, joking — 
swaggering, staggering." 3 This is a loud echo 
of the more savage frolicking of the eighteenth- 
century Scowrers and Mohocks, quite as noisy, 
perhaps, but certainly less brutal. In an age of 
wooden pavements and rubber tires we are all 

1 Eight years later Dickens showed the influence of this work 
in the fact that his Pickwick Papers were also issued in monthly 
instalments, accompanied with illustrations and based on a similar 
loose succession of adventures. 

3 Life in London, I, chap. iv. 

3 Ibid., I, chap. ix. 







- 







REGENT STREET 
(From Pierce Egan's Life in London) 



' I 



! i 



- 



' k w 










MILD DIVERSIONS FOR TOM AND JERRY 
(From Pierce Egan's Life in London) 



DICKENS' LONDON 221 

becoming like Ben Jonson's "Morose, a gentle- 
man who loves no noise. ' ' Yet less than a hundred 
years ago this is the way in which the half-price 
people came in during the middle of an evening's 
performance at the select Drury Lane Theater : 

Jumping over boxes and obtaining seats by any means, 
regardless of politeness or even of decorum — Bucks and 
Bloods warm from the pleasures of the bottle — dashing 
Belles and flaming Beaux, squabbling and almost fighting 
— rendered the amusements before the curtain of a 
momentary interest, which appeared to obliterate the 
recollection of what they had previously witnessed. In 
the meantime, the Gods in the gallery issued forth an 
abundant variety of discordant sounds, from their ele- 
vated situation. Growling of bears, grunting of hogs, 
braying of donkeys, gobbling of turkeys, hissing of geese, 
the catcall, and the loud shrill whistle, were heard in one 
mingling concatenation of excellent imitation and undis- 
tinguished variety. 2 

On the tenth page occurs a coach race which 
ends in an overturn and the vociferous outcries 
of a fat woman who was thrown on top of a 
quickset-hedge. In the course of the story there 
is a scene at the Bow Street Police Court, at "the 
residence of a Bug-destroyer in the Strand," at a 
burning timber yard, at various nocturnal and 
noonday hells, at several street fights, cock fights 

2 Ibid., chap. x. 



222 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

and prize fights, at a bear-baiting and a corona- 
tion, and at almost every level of social diversion 
between. This is a strong diet. One is reassured 
to find that in the end Corinthian Kate commits 
suicide, Bob Logic dies impoverished, Corinthian 
Tom breaks his neck in a horse race, and Jerry 
alone is left to reform, marry discreetly, and 
become a justice of the peace. A valiant moral 
adorns the tale; but it was not the moral which 
made it popular enough to stage and to imitate: 
it was the high popularity of the rough-and-ready 
action in which Life in London abounded both in 
fiction and in fact. 

Yet a change was coming in the recreations of 
men. Thackeray, writing a quarter of a century 
after Pierce Egan, was quick to recognize this, 
and almost ready to lament it. So also was the 
gentle Quaker lady of whom Mr. Birrell tells 1 as 
remarking "in heightened tones at a dinner table 
where the subject of momentary conversation was 
a late prize fight, ' O pity was it that ever corrup- 
tion should have crept in amongst them!' 
'Amongst whom,' inquired her immediate neigh- 
bor. ' Amongst the bruisers of England ! ' was the 
terrific rejoinder. Deep were her blushes— and 
yet how easy to forgive her!" Coaching and the 

1 Augustine Birrell, Res Judicatae, in the essay on George Borrow. 



DICKENS' LONDON 223 

love of fine animals were still the love of many who 
might have said with David Copperfield's casual 
acquaintance in the tall white hat, " 'Orses and 
dorgs is some men's fancy. They are wittles 
and drink to me, lodging, wife and children, read- 
ing, writing, and 'rithmetic, snuff, tobacker, and 
sleep." 

"The Road," said Thackeray, "was an insti- 
tution, the Ring was an institution. Men rallied 
round them and, not without a kind conservatism, 
expatiated upon the benefits with which they 

endowed the country To give and take 

a black eye was not unusual or derogatory in a 
gentleman, to drive a stage coach the enjoyment, 
the emulation of generous youth." The pleasures 
of table were not as a rule epicurean. In the last 
century England has progressed toward temper- 
ance and America toward abstinence. In this 
country today if the host ask any question it is, 
"Will you have something to drink?" In 
England today the query is, "What will you have 
to drink ?" In Dickens' day the assumption was 
that a man would drink freely or tell the reason 
why. On social occasions good fellowship among 
men recommended imbibing to the point of 
hilarity, and good form apparently set no annoy- 
ing maximum limit. 



224 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

\ As for "the wind of hope and humanity" that 
was blowing through the period, there is sufficient 
evidence in the effect of the great revolutions with 
which the eighteenth century had come to an end. 
A great economic movement so important that 
it has received the special name of " The Industrial 
Revolution" was the natural attendant of these 
political upheavals. The establishment of the 
factory system brought with it at the outset long 
hours, low pay, and terribly unwise employment 
of women and children; but the time had passed 
for either unlimited or unpunished exploitation of 
labor, as the development of regulative legislation 
began to show. While Francis Place and William 
Cobbett were stimulating action in Parliament, 
Robert Owen and the factory reformers were 
toiling for direct improvement of social conditions; 
and while these men were rewarded by slow and 
tentative results of their work, the labors of John 
Howard and Mrs. Fry brought about the first 
beginnings of prison sanitation; finally the treat- 
ment of offenders against the law was being made 
less barbarous through the efforts of Bentham 
and Romilly. In 1830 was the last punishment 
on the pillory, and too late, but at last, came the 
last public execution. The reader who expects 
to find explicit discussions of these problems in the 




m i 




^ ^^%i!ii?il' 



ir parliament house, from old palace yard. 




THE KINGS ENTRANCE TO THE HOUSE OF LORDS. 

THE OLD HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT BURNED IN 1834 
(From ;in old print) 



DICKENS' LONDON 225 

great novels of the day is doomed to certain 
disappointment. Only certain of the more obvi- 
ous and picturesque conditions are introduced; 
yet, each in his own fashion, the story-tellers of 
the period reflected the general social conditions 
which lay in the background. 

sFew other English men of letters of the first 
rank have so completely woven London into their 
work as Dickens; for few other writers were ever 
blessed and cursed with experiences quite like his. 
As a boy, after ten years of care-free comfort 
he was suddenly plunged into two years of such 
poverty that he had to work in a blacking factory 
while his father was a prisoner for debt in the 
Marshalsea. In those days he learned London — 
the London of David Copperfield and Oliver Twist, 
of The Old Curiosity Shop and The Tale of Two 
Cities; and he learned to hate it savagely. Then 
came a second period of belated schooling, then 
a clerkship with a Gray's Inn solicitor; then 
experience as a reporter, first a "cub" but soon 
an expert in the House of Commons; 1 then his 
early triumph as author of Pickwick; and then 
the thirty-odd years in which he tasted "honor, 
love, obedience, troops of friends" before his 

1 This was in the old House of Commons, burned down in 1834. 



226 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

death at the age of fifty-eight in 1870. In these 
years when he ran the whole scale from abject 
poverty to almost splendid wealth, he was living in 
the surroundings which became the backgrounds 
for his stories. The streets and buildings among 
which his characters moved are many of them 
unchanged now. The social conditions against 
which he inveighed are altered partly because of 
the vigor of his successful attacks. 

In the course of his career he thus became 
acquainted with life as only that man may who 
by the accident of birth has been started well 
toward the bottom of the social composition, and 
has filtered his way up through one stratum after 
another until he has stood before kings. Thus 
Dickens learned life; but life for him was con- 
centered in London. Though he knew it com- 
pletely, he knew "by heart" only those parts of 
it in which he lived and worked in the second 
dozen years of his life. Of these he wrote mainly 
when he wrote of London at all, but never more 
explicitly than in the Sketches by Boz, which were 
his first published writings. 

Those twenty-five, entitled "scenes," are 
striking in their materials and in the very order 
in which they are presented. First, by morning 
and night, the streets to which he had the key — 



DICKENS' LONDON 227 

those "secret passages" which are "lined with 
houses and roofed with stars"; then the shops, a 
half-dozen kinds of them and all either shabby 
and sordid, or on the way to being so before 
long; then London at play, in the tea-gardens, on 
the river, at public dinners, Vauxhall, Greenwich 
Fair, Astley's, and the private theaters; then 
four on coaches, cabs, omnibuses, and the tribe 
of Tony Weller; then one on Doctors' Commons 
where young Charles had served as clerk, and one 
on Parliament where he had reported the speeches 
in the House of Commons; and finally "The 
Criminal Courts" and "A Visit to Newgate." 
These two hundred pages of "scenes" contain 
practically all the tableaux that are to be found 
in the rest of his work except a few domestic 
interiors, and there are plenty of these to be found 
in the other groups of the Sketches — the "Char- 
acters," the "Tales," and "Our Parish." 

\The succession of pictures as a whole is a grim 
one. The actual streets and buildings are not 
by any means as attractive to the eye as those 
which Hogarth used for his backgrounds. They 
are a half-century older, blacker by a half-century 
more of smoke, and weaker from that much more 
decay. While we look on them we become con- 
scious as never before that London in its age has 



228 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

slums. A moment's thought tells us that the 
Alsatia of Milton's clay and the Thames Street 
of Gay's and the Grub Street of Goldsmith's must 
have been slums ; that there must have been sore 
and festering spots in the city since before history 
took pains to record them. Horrid inhabitants 
of these quarters cross Dickens' pages; in con- 
trast to them, all degrees of wealth, virtue, and 
amiability as well. Had Hogarth been living he 
would have pictured them best of all. In default 
of him Cruikshank does almost as well. Here are 
the fronts of some pawnshops on Monmouth 
Street — the whole scene teeming with human life. 
Many grown-ups, but children everywhere — in 
arms, playing among the filthy garments, sailing 
boats and fishing in the filthier gutter. A dog 
in the picture is the most attractive and appro- 
priate detail — the only brute in the composition 
who is frankly on all fours. Or here's an episode 
at Seven Dials — two slatterns akimbo berating 
each other to the delectation of a dozen or fifteen 
standers and passers-by. This was the London 
out of which Dickens had struggled and which he 
hated beyond words, even while he succumbed to 
its fascination. 

Beneath all his invective was the passionate 
love of his big city which belongs to most metro- 




A VIEW OF THE LITTLE SANCTUARY 

Under[_' : engraving by J. T. Smith (1808) is the explanation: "This place which was 
once an asylum for fugitive offenders, is at this time a harbour for wretchedness, filth, and 
contagion." See Afcatia, pp. 52, 53. 



DICKENS' LONDON 229 

politans. One does not look to them for rational 
judgment. One of them can lose his head over 
a city as completely as over a woman. He is 
quite as likely to talk in rash superlatives and 
rather more so to remain constant in his infatua- 
tion. Dickens was not one of the Anglo-Italian 
school who loved England better, the more they 
stayed away from it. "Put me down on Water- 
loo Bridge," he wrote from Genoa, where he was 
working on The Chimes, "at eight o'clock in the 
evening, with leave to roam about as long as I 
like, and I would come home, as you know, 
panting to go on. I am sadly strange as it is, and 
can't settle." 1 

This love of roaming, one is inclined to believe, 
was the confirmation of a habit started in the two 
dreary years of the Murdstone and Grinby period 
of boyish hard labor. From them on to manhood 
he satisfied his Wanderlust in a fashion comparable 
to Thoreau's, who said, "I myself have traveled 
a great deal— in Concord." Apparently he loved 
best to wander about the old, old City in the 
district which was thickly populated as far back 
as Shakespeare's day and earlier. The bulk of his 

1 This is the bridge between Blackfriars and Charing Cross, the 
north end being near the present Kingsway and the foot of old 
Drury Lane. 



230 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

references are to this part of town, which he could 
easily have reached from Waterloo Bridge when 
he started on a walk at eight o'clock in the even- 
ing. St. Martin's in the Fields just north of 
Trafalgar Square continually appears in his 
stories. David Copperfield and Mr. Arthur Clen- 
nam both were fond of the Covent Garden region, 
although David had quarters for a while in the 
Adelphi, on a side street leading to the Terrace 
where Garrick lived in his famous days, and 
Clennam's mother lived in a ramshackle house 
quite as near the river, and a little farther down 
stream between St. Paul's and the water front. 

The main action of both these stories is in the 
little strip between Fleet Street and the Strand 
and the Thames. Oliver Twist, in the darker 
periods of his career, was living up near Smith- 
field Market, and continually introduces the reader 
to familiar streets and scenes in the neighborhood 
of Smithfield and the Charterhouse, the Old 
Bailey and St. Paul's— a little district of a com- 
paratively few acres. Again, the immortal Dick 
Swiveller in The Old Curiosity Shop, while he 
lived in the vicinity of Drury Lane, confined his 
world to a little district in the immediate neigh- 
borhood. His method of securing the necessaries 
of life embarrassed him greatly, as his failure to 



DICKENS' LONDON 231 

pay bills at different shops closed one street 
after another. 

This dinner today closes Long Acre. I bought a 
pair of boots in Great Queen Street last week and made 
that no thoroughfare. There is only one avenue to the 
Strand left open now and I shall have to stop that up 
tonight with a pair of gloves. The roads are closing so 
fast in every direction that in about a month's time .... 
I shall have to go from three to four miles out of town to 
get over the way. 1 

And "the way," one should notice, is not toward 
the open surrounding country, but from his 
quarters near Drury Lane down into the little 
strip between the ingenious Richard and the river. 
s It was here in the very thick of things that 
Dickens' imagination thrived as it harked back 
to the scenes with which he became desperately 
familiar during the weary years when he had 
"the key to the streets." Hungerford Market 
at Charing Cross was his place of work. His 
rambles were almost all to the north and east, 
for the twofold reason that the Marshalsea was 
naturally reached across Waterloo, Blackfriars, 
or London bridges, and that the district to the 
west of the little drudge was too splendid to seem 
homelike or friendly to him. It lacked also the 

1 The Old Curiosity Shop, chap. viii. 



232 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

variety of the older portion of town. In a neigh- 
borhood where the houses had made up their 
minds to "slide down sideways" and were now 
leaning on gigantic crutches preliminary to the 
time when they should abandon these and dive 
into the river, the replacing of the rottenest old 
ones by more modern structures varied the scene; 
but in the west there was the dreariness of uniform 
prosperity. 

The expressionless uniform twenty houses, all to be 
knocked at and rung at in the same form, all approachable 
by the same dull steps, all fended off by the same pattern 
of railing, all with the same impracticable fire-escapes, the 
same inconvenient fixtures in their heads, and everything 
without exception to be taken at a high valuation — who 
has not dined with these P 1 

If Dickens occasionally overstates, at least 
he does not do so in such a description as this of 
Harley Street. It might apply literally to scores 
of streets yet standing, which are equally bleak, 
dreary, and expensive looking. But in this same 
period when Dickens was still in boyhood there 
was a great lot of building done in London which 
was characterized by fine and dignified elegance 
as well as by stability. Much of this is associated 
with the name of the Regent, eminently of course 

1 Little Dorrit, Book I, chap. xxi. 




PART OF WEST SIDE OF REGENT STREET. 




PART OF EAST SIDE OF REGENT STREET. 

(From old prints) 



DICKENS' LONDON 233 

Regent Street running due north from St. James 
Park to Piccadilly Circus, and thence in a fine 
curve up to Oxford Street and beyond to Langley 
Place. The buildings are four stories high in a 
classical style, the chief feature of which is the 
oft-repeated Greek pediment and the ornamental 
Corinthian columns. To the sophisticated they 
exhibit "the follies of a Greek architectural 
mania," but to those who do not know any better 
they seem graceful and stately and dignified ; and 
they are surely fortunate in not succumbing to the 
London smoke, on account of the fact that they 
are Crown property and must be repainted at 
frequent intervals. Regent Street was a fine 
achievement of the early nineteenth century, in 
redeeming a sordid neighborhood by cutting a 
bold swath through it and making a complete new 
start in the buildings which lined the avenue. The 
same sort of thing within the last ten years has 
been done in the construction of Kingsway, which 
runs from Holborn directly down to the Strand. 
y But the fine sweep around Regent's Park, 1 
which is bordered with the same architecture, was 
erected in what was then open country, al- 
though at the present time it is a jewel set as 

1 Dickens was a householder in this neighborhood, at 1 Devon- 
shire Terrace, 1839-51. 



234 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

firmly into the compactly surrounding London 
neighborhood as Regent Street itself. By Dickens' 
time the city had become enormous. Hyde 
Park was encircled with buildings. Regent's, to 
the northeast of it, was no longer absurdly 
far from the center of things. Islington and 
Paddington, a good two miles out from the city 
on the northwest, had finally been included. 
Kensington, west of Westminster and beyond 
Hyde Park, was developing fast. Of course 
tremendous expansion was going on and is still 
going on, the surroundings of London today being 
as fresh and incomplete and varnishy as can be 
found around any middle western American city. 
Yet in Dickens' day the great metropolis had 
become so vast that its further growth in mere area 
is only comparatively interesting. As a matter of 
fact, few visitors to London know anything of the 
great city which extends miles beyond the limits 
of that London which Oliver Twist knew. 

1 No account of Dickens' London is complete 
that does not include the lawyers and their courts. 
Over fifty scenes, and some of them many times 
repeated, are presented of the chambers and the 
halls of the lawyers. They figure prominently 
in no less than fifteen of his works. If Dickens 
were to be taken as the sole and final judge, one 



DICKENS' LONDON 235 

would feel that little progress in legal practices 
had been made since the days of Langland and 
Chaucer. Of all the grievous subjects in Dickens' 
pages, none is so grievous to him as this. He has 
a constitutional aversion to the ways of the pro- 
fession. Gray's Inn he describes as "that strong- 
hold of melancholy .... one of the most de- 
pressing institutions in brick and mortar known 
to the children of men." 1 It is no worse than the 
rest, however. Clement's Inn is almost redeemed 
by a fanciful tradition, if one could only believe it. 
"But what populace will waste fancy on such a 
place, or on New Inn, Staple Inn, Barnard's Inn, 
or any of the shabby crew?" 2 Dickens could find 
no fitter time to introduce us to the courts 
of Chancery than in "implacable November 
weather," and even there "the raw afternoon 
is rawest, and the dense fog is densest, and the 
muddy streets are muddiest [where] at the very 
heart of the fog sits the Lord High Chancellor," 3 
Even the chambers of the lawyers are equally 
benighted. A solicitor in Gray's Inn "occupies 
a highly suicidal set." Mr. Tulkinghorn returns 
like a dingy London bird smoke-dried and faded 
to Lincoln's Inn Fields. Mr. Vholes is quartered 

1 The Uncommercial Traveller, chap. xiv. 

2 Ibid. 3 Bleak House, chap. i. 



236 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

in a "dingy hatchment," "a little, pale, wall-eyed, 
woe-begone inn." As for what goes on in these 
precincts, if we were to take Dickens' word, 
nothing was apparently gained except the fees 
of the lawyers, and in this view he stands in 
uncharitable agreement with Chaucer, Langland, 
and Lydgate. 1 

Throughout literature all along the centuries 
a second indictment has been drawn that the bar 
in England was a shelter, not only for men who 
were too clever, but for others who were not 
clever at all — amiable young gentlemen, who 
under cloak of pursuit of the law, indulged in lives 
of harmless but useless frivolity. Such was 
Edward Kno'well 2 in the early seventeenth 
century, Addison's nameless member of the Inner 
Temple 3 in the early eighteenth century, and so 
on down the line to Richard Feverel's graceless 
friend, Ripton Thompson 4 in mid-Victorian days. 

Dickens' own life, in contrast to his stories, 
may be described as a brilliant succession of 
more or less formal dinners. Though no man 
ever reveled more in feast of reason and flow of 

1 See the account of Doctors' Commons, David Copperfield, 
chap, xxiii. 

2 Ben Jonson, Every Man in His Humour. 

3 See Spectator, Nos. 2 ff. 

4 Meredith, Richard Feverel. 



DICKENS' LONDON 237 

soul, he was by no means above the enjoyment 
of meat and drink. He writes to Forster: 

You don't feel disposed, do you, to muffle yourself up 
and start off with me for a good, brisk walk over Hamp- 
stead Heath ? I knows a good 'ouse where we can have 
a red-hot chop for dinner and a glass of good wine 1 — 

the house, still standing, being the far-famed Jack 
Straw's Castle. This was a modest meal. A 
better measure of his real capacity was a breakfast 
he once had when he was looking up data for 
Mr. Squeers. "We have had for breakfast," he 
writes, "toast, cakes, a Yorkshire pie, a piece of 
beef about the size and much the shape of my 
portmanteau, tea, coffee, ham, and eggs." 2 Nor 
was Dickens above the joys of the cheerful glass. 
One of his social accomplishments was the making 
of a famous gin-punch, which his friends describe 
him as mixing with the manner "of a comic 
conjurer, with a little of the pride of one who had 
made a great discovery for the benefit of" man- 
kind. One hardly needs to point to the fact that 
his English generation drank more freely than does 
ours in America. Here is the way George Sala 
puts it : 

The King of Prussia drinks champagne, 
Old Porson drank whate'er was handy 

1 Quoted in W. T. Shore, Charles Dickens and His Friends, p. 29. 

2 Ibid., p. 82. 



2*8 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 



: .-> 



Maginn drank gin, Judge Blackstone port, 
And many wits drink brandy. 
Stern William Romer drinketh beer, 
And so does Tennyson the rhymer; 
But I'll renounce all liquors for 
My Caviar and Riidesheimer. 1 

Sargeant Talfourd, friend of all the eminent of his 
day and no mean writer himself, was always 
elevated after dinner. Wilkie Collins was merely 
amusing to his friends, when on coming to a 
christening party after an excellent dinner, he 
gazed at the child in its mother's arms, steadied 
himself, looked solemnly at it, and said: "Ah! 
child's drunk. He's very drunk!" 

The happiest of Dickens' dinners were those 
he enjoyed in company with small groups of 
friends. The best of them were, perhaps, at 
John Forster's, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, in the 
very quarters which he described as occupied 
by Mr. Tulkinghorn, Barrister. "I am told," 
he writes to one of his American friends, although 
no one needed to tell him, "there is a sound in 
Lincoln's Inn Fields at night, as of men laughing 
together with a clinking of knives and forks and 
wine-glasses." 2 There was a great deal of good 

1 Verses from "Journey due North" in Shore, Household Words, 
p. 178. 

3 Quoted in Shore, Dickens and His Friends, p. 6. 



DICKENS' LONDON 239 

talk, and that kind of informal jollity that well- 
behaved people can have when they are not on 
their company manners. Certain of the men had 
their favorite songs, as for instance John Leach's 
"King Death," which Dickens once interrupted, 
saying in the midst of uproarious laughter: 
"There, that will do; if you go on any longer, you 
will make me cry." There were even recitations. 
There was everything legitimate except formality. 
The best of all these familiar gatherings was the 
famous one in this same year when he came back 
from Milan to read his Christmas Chimes to a few 
friends. " Oh Heaven, what a week we will have," 
he wrote in advance. We have record of two 
occasions in the week, one when he presided at 
the Shakespeare Club dinner, and the other a few 
days later when with Carlyle, Douglas Jerrold, 
Frederick Dickens, Maclise, and others he read in 
Forster's rooms his Christmas Story, which was 
then in proof. 

\ Dickens enjoyed this kind of occasion most, 
but he had a rare gift for making artificial after- 
dinner speaking at least seem like the real thing. 
No episodes are pleasanter than the various ones 
where Dickens and Thackeray were present to- 
gether—the dinner of the Royal Academy where 
Thackeray told of his first rejected offer to illus- 



240 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

trate Dickens' stories; a farewell dinner with 
Dickens in the chair as Thackeray was starting 
for America; a dinner of the General Theatrical 
Fund where Thackeray was toastmaster and 
Dickens full of demonstrative affection for his 
fellow-novelist. It is not without interest to 
record what must have pleased the loyal Dickens 
himself, that the last time he dined out in London, 
within a fortnight of his death, he was invited as 
the guest of a noble lord to meet the King of the 
Belgians and the Prince of Wales. 

Frequently at the house of Rogers, the banker 
poet, there was the feast of reason and flow of 
soul that accompanies good food and drinking. 
When the novelist left for America, for France, for 
Italy, when he returned, and when he went again, 
always there were dinners and always toasts 
addressed in fulness of heart to the brilliant and 
beautiful guest of honor. This side of Dickens' 
life appears little in his stories, the indelible 
impressions of his boyhood years crowding out 
almost everything else. Yet occasional resem- 
blances were perhaps too faithful, as in the case of 
Harold Skimpole to Leigh Hunt, and Lawrence 
Boythorne to Walter Savage Landor. 

Dickens' London was of course Thackeray's 
in the sense that the two authors were exact 



DICKENS' LONDON 241 

contemporaries and enjoyed popularity and for- 
tune there during the same years. As men 
they were acquainted with the same clubs and 
theaters, and dined at many of the same tables 
both public and private. Yet the London of 
Thackeray's stories was quite the reverse of 
that in the tales of Dickens — a difference for 
which the difference in their early careers ac- 
counted. For Thackeray was in a modest way a 
creature of fortune. As a boy he was sent home 
from India for education, first in the Charterhouse 
School and then at Trinity College, Cambridge. 
After leaving the university — prematurely — he 
spent his time till he was twenty-one partly in 
Weimar, partly in Paris, and partly in the Devon- 
shire house where his mother now lived. During 
this period he was making somewhat unsystematic 
attempts to learn drawing, to which he had a 
natural leaning but no particular desire to apply 
himself. This desire was decreased when on 
becoming of age he received an inheritance which 
would have brought him in an income of five 
hundred pounds if he had not made away with 
the whole amount in two years. 

\ Thus it was that when Dickens was already 
triumphant over this youthful obstacles, Thack- 
eray was regaling himself with the combined 



242 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

memories of wasted opportunities and a squan- 
dered fortune; but he was not ill-trained for the 
work he had to do. He had been moving about 
in a definite realm of society, among the people 
of wealth, of rank, and of at least the chance for 
culture. He had known them in town and at 
their country seats, he had seen them as they 
traveled on the Continent. He knew, in memory 
at least, something of their lives in the distant 
colonial possessions and of how they spent at 
home the money which had been earned for them 
in the far corners of the earth. Hence Pendennis 
and The Newcomes and Vanity Fair; and the 
Sketches and Travels in London, which stand in 
the same relation to his novels as do the already 
noted Sketches by Boz to Dickens' longer works. 
Mr. Brown writes a dozen letters to his nephew 
who has chambers in the Inner Temple and is 
mildly pursuing the study of the law. Mr. Brown 
advises him to curb his inclination for jewelry 
and elaborate dress, to cultivate the society of 
"lovely woman," to be amicable at his club and 
genial at the formal assemblies. There are four 
sketches about dinners of various sorts, all of them 
more or less expensive, and scores of allusions to 
theater and opera. The man who wrote these is 
not selfish nor unsympathetic, as he proves in 



DICKENS' LONDON 243 

"Waiting at the Station" and "Going to See a 
Man Hanged"; but they are the observations of 
a man whose haunts are in the West End. These 
two papers are the results of his "travels" in 
London. His sketches are naturally of well-fed 
and opulent people in surroundings of fastidious" 
nicety. 

Thackeray's London started with social posi- 
tion and used Bohemia as a background as natu- 
rally as Dickens' started with poverty and resorted 
to the West End only by way of contrast. Major 
Arthur Pendennis is introduced "in the full Lon- 
don season .... at a certain club in Pall Mall 
of which he was the chief ornament." It was the 
height of heroism when, in order to pull his nephew 
out of a tight place, "he gave up London in May, 
.... his afternoons from club to club, his little 
confidential visits to my ladies, his rides in Rotten 
Row, his dinners, and his stall at the Opera, 
.... his bow from my Lord Duke or my Lord 
Marquis at the great London entertainments." 1 
J nagine any Dickens character with such a daily 
program! For relief, Arthur Pendennis the 
younger, after he had failed at the university, 
came back to Dick Swiveller's London, lived in 
the Lamb Court, Inner Temple, frequented the 

1 Pendennis, chap, ix; see also all of chap. i. 



244 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Back Kitchen at the Fielding's Head in Covent 
Garden, and consorted with a poor hack writer 
in the Fleet Prison. But this was diversion. 
"Elated with the idea of seeing life, Pen went into 
a hundred queer London haunts." 1 When he 
returned to his native heath he re-entered the 
West End drawing-rooms, where 

the carpets were so magnificently fluffy that your foot 
made no more noise on them than your shadow ; on their 
white ground bloomed roses and tulips as big as warming 
pans; about the room were high chairs and low chairs, 
bandy-legged chairs, chairs so attenuated that it was a 
wonder any but a sylph could sit upon them, marqueterie 
tables covered with marvelous gimcracks, china orna- 
ments of all ages and countries, bronzes, gilt daggers, 
Books of Beauty, yataghans, Turkish papooshes and boxes 
of Parisian bonbons. Wherever you sat down there were 
Dresden shepherds and shepherdesses convenient at 
your elbow; there were, moreover light blue poodles and 
ducks and cocks and hens in porcelain .... there was in 
a word everything that comfort could desire and the 
most elegant taste devise. A London drawing-room fitted 
up without regard to expense is surely one of the noblest 
and most curious sights of the present day. 2 

This was quite different from the interior decora- 
tion of Elizabeth's time. When Dickens wished 
to achieve the same variety he had to resort to the 
Old Curiosity Shop. 

1 Pendennis, chap. xxx. 2 Ibid., chap, xxxvii. 




Preachers Court Charter house. 




El b ' M 

^T***^ i.'. C,r.-».r Hall ^Interior} Chvrt«H 



CHARTER HOUSE. WITHOUT AND WITHIN 

(From photographs) 



DICKENS' LONDON 245 

In Thackeray's own experience the most 
interesting contact with historic London came 
through his four years at Charterhouse. 1 It is 
one of the most interesting monuments in London. 
As hospital and school it dates from 161 1, but at 
that time it was two hundred and forty years old, 
for it was originally a Carthusian monastery which 
suffered confiscation at the dissolution of the mon- 
asteries in 1535. Structurally it looks today very 
much as it has for centuries. 

There is an old Hall, a beautiful specimen of the archi- 
tecture of James's time; an old Hall? many old halls; 
old staircases, old passages, old chambers decorated 
with old portraits, walking in the midst of which we walk 
as it were in the early seventeenth century. 

In these surroundings lived the eighty pen- 
sioners who enjoyed the bounty of Sir Thomas 
Sutton, the founder, and here studied the sixty 
foundation scholars and the hundreds of tuition 
scholars among whom Thackeray was one. He 
could look back on illustrious predecessors. 
Crashaw, the poet, Blackstone of Commentaries 
fame, Addison and Steele together, John Wesley, 
nonconformist, and archdeacons, bishops, and 
archbishops of the established church. Today 

1 This appears as Greyfriars in Pendennis, chap, ii, and in The 
Newcomes, Vol. I, chaps, iv and vii; Vol. II, chaps, xxxvii and xlii. 



246 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the number of pensioners has been reduced and 
the Charterhouse School, which has removed to 
Surrey, has been replaced by the Merchant Tay- 
lors' School; but the old associations still cluster 
in and around the old buildings. Smithfield 
Market is just around the corner, and a few 
minutes' walk down Aldersgate Street and beyond 
brings us to St. Paul's Churchyard and the tower- 
ing dome in the midst of it. 

If Charterhouse was such an epitome of life 
and letters, how much more so was all London. 
It was still an old city, untouched by the march of 
comfort. There were no telephones, nor tele- 
graphs, nor railways above or below ground. 
There were no electric lights, nor motor busses, 
nor elevators; no department stores nor penny 
post. In 1 8 14 the London Times was first printed 
by steam, and in 18 16 a steamboat first plied on 
the river. In 1822 St. James's Park was lighted 
by gas, and in 1836 the Greenwich Railway was 
opened. Old cities are like old houses. You 
cannot introduce all the modern conveniences 
without changing the looks of things. The niche 
on the stairs, where the old Rogers Group used 
to be, proves just the place for an electric switch- 
board ; and the fine old knocker on the front door, 
though it still survives, is a sort of "last leaf in 



DICKENS' LONDON 247 

the spring," for everyone knows that all it does 
now is to press a button when it comes down. 
Georgian London is no more; and this is but 
natural; it is a long way back to the Georges. 
Thackeray and Dickens were both born more 
than a hundred years ago. 

Illustrative Readings 

As we approach the present day, the abundance of 
material is so great that the problem of selection is corre- 
spondingly increased. In the lists supplied with the 
eighth, ninth, and tenth chapters, books will be mentioned 
which have for the most part been useful in the preparation 
of this volume. 

Biography 

Forster, John, Life of Charles Dickens. 

Ritchie, A. J., Biographical introductions to works 

of William Makepeace Thackeray. 
Shore, W. Teignmouth, Charles Dickens and His 

Friends. 
Ward, H. S. and C. W. B., The Real Dickens Land. 

Contemporary Satire and Description 

Carlyle, Thomas, Model Prisons in Latter Day Pam- 
phlets. 

Dickens, Charles, Sketches by Boz. 

Egan, Pierce, Life in London (2 vols.); A Finish to 
the Adventures in and out of London. 

Masson, David, Memories of London in the 'Forties. 

Thackeray, W. M., Sketches and Travels in London. 



248 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Fiction 

Dickens Charles (novels of special importance only), 
Bleak House; David Copperjield (much auto- 
biography); Great Expectations; Little Dorrit; 
Nicholas Nickleby; Oliver Twist; Old Curiosity 
Shop. 

Thackeray, W. M., The Newcomcs; Pendennis; 
Vanity Fair. 




& 2 



CHAPTER IX 

VICTORIAN LONDON 

There is no man or group of men of letters 
whose name can suggest for the latter half of the 
nineteenth century what the name of the Queen 
does when applied to her London or her England. 
Nor is there any monarch in the history of the 
country whose name suggests so much, unless 
it be that other Queen who lived about three 
hundred years before Victoria. The enormous 
changes — some of them spectacular and some 
invisible but fundamental — which took place 
under her reign have been so frequently expounded 
that they are familiar generalizations to every 
reader. In religion they include the Oxford 
Movement 1 toward a re-established orthodoxy in a 
day when heretical liberalism was hourly spread- 
ing; in politics and economics, the series of events 
leading up to and beyond the Chartist uprising 
of 1 84s 2 and the spread of empire throughout 

1 For a treatment in fiction of the effects of this movement see 
Anthony Trollope, Barchester Towers, with special reference to 
chaps, vi and xx. Also Charles Kingsley, Yeast. 

2 See Kingsley, Alton Locke; George Eliot, Felix Holt; and 
Charles Reade, Put Yourself in His Place. 

249 



250 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the century; in science and invention all that is 
involved in the initial developments in the con- 
quest of time and space, and all that was bound to 
follow the revolutionizing discoveries in the 
natural sciences. 1 The great strides taken in 
popular education were natural consequences of 
these other steps in social evolution; and the 
literature of these generations became the living 
index of what was going on. 

These advances in human progress are all of 
them so recent that the period seems infinitely 
complex. Evidently no man, or pair, or group 
of writers may be selected as universally repre- 
sentative, nor did any human experience touch 
all phases of Victorian London or England. So 
by way of a frank makeshift adjective, one uses 
the name of a gentle lady who, as a quietly con- 
templative onlooker, witnessed the march of 
events with which she was in general sympathy, 
although she was comparatively powerless either 
to retard or encourage. What the world has 
agreed to mean by her name is something which 
is gone. 

Thus — to illustrate by a reference to the novel- 
ists — with more than a generation of added ex- 

1 For the attitude toward new developments in the medical world, 
for instance, see George Eliot, Middlcmarch, Book V. 



VICTORIAN LONDON 251 

perience since Dickens' death, we are all of us 
conjuring with generalizations for which he was 
by no means prepared. We take up Mr. Herbert 
G. Wells and share his excitement over the social 
order of things. We feel that he is very eloquent 
and that what he says is very familiar. We 
turn to Mr. Bennett and Mr. Galsworthy to dis- 
cover that these truths are so familiar to them 
as to fill them with a sad world-weariness. We 
feel subtly flattered at not having explained to us 
the conclusions which Mr. Wells is eagerly admin- 
istering. These others begin where he leaves off. 
Then we turn to Mr. William de Morgan to find 
that he is still muddling with the Deceased Wife's 
Sister's Bill. We enjoy seeing him at it. We 
admire much that is in him, and then we say some- 
what complacently, "Victorian." So "Victorian" 
is used as a synonym for old-fashioned. It sug- 
gests an attitude of wonder at the fact that the old 
order is giving place to new, and it makes this 
wonder resolve itself now into applause and now 
into dismay. It makes this past generation 
timidly accept as conclusions ideas which the 
twentieth century regards as hoary with age. 
And in the London of Victoria it offers evidence 
of all this in the life of the people and in the 
monuments which they erected to themselves. 



252 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

As one stands in Trafalgar Square at the foot 
of the Nelson Monument and faces toward the 
southwest, he is standing as it were at the junc- 
tion of the three members of a gigantic wishbone. 
Behind him, at the apex of the whole thing is the 
church of St. Martin's in the Fields, just across 
the street from the National Gallery. In front 
of him is the magnificent arch and colonnade which 
mark the entrance to the Mall which runs by 
St. James's Park to Buckingham Palace. A little 
to the left Whitehall leads among the imposing 
government buildings down toward the Houses of 
Parliament and Westminster Abbey — imperial 
London equipped for work and ready to transact 
business with the world. A little to the right 
one can see through to Pall Mall flanked with 
imposing clubhouses — social London arrayed in 
its best and prepared to enjoy itself in the seclu- 
sion of barricaded gentility. And at the meeting- 
point of the two avenues this square which is 
overlooked by the statue of a king and the monu- 
ment of a conqueror is over and over again the 
meeting-place of democratic English assembled to 
protest at the established order of things. 

Although for many generations, particularly 
from Addison's time onward, the club has been an 
important feature in the daily life of the Lon- 



VICTORIAN LONDON 253 

doner, it was not till well into the nineteenth 
century that modern clubdom came into full 
flower. The Pall Mall of the present, that solemn 
array of fine houses in which the English gentle- 
man goes through the solemn ceremony of enjoy- 
ing himself, was largely built up during the life 
of Victoria, if not during her reign. The Marl- 
borough (on the site of the original Almack's), 
the Army and Navy, and the Junior Carlton; 
and across the way the Oxford and Cambridge 
clubs, both Old and New, the Junior Naval 
and Military, the Guards, the Carlton, the 
Reform, the Travellers, the Athenaeum, and the 
United Service, formidably parade English male 
respectability in its most awful aspects. Other 
clubs by scores and dozens, and many of them 
most exclusive, are scattered all about town. 
United they stand here, however, as in no other 
quarter. 

No alien knows much about them, for few 
aliens ever cross their thresholds, and when they 
do it is to be continually reminded that they are 
not "visitors," but "strangers." It may there- 
fore be unfair to quote even an Englishman's 
comment on an imaginary organization known as 
"The Stoics." 1 

1 See Galsworthy, The Country House, I, x; III, vi. 



254 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

II was getting on for the Stoics' dinner hour, and, 
Stoic after Stoic, they were getting out of cabs and passing 
the club doors. The poor fellows had been working hard 
all day on the race course, the cricket ground, at Hurling- 
ham, or in the Park; some had been to the Royal Acad- 
emy, and on their faces was a pleasant look: "Ah, God is 
good — we can rest at last!" .... From a little back slum 
there had come out two seamstresses to take the air. They 
stood on the pavement watching the cabs drive up. Some 
of the Stoics saw them and thought, "Poor girls: they 
look awfully bad." Three or four said to themselves: "It 
oughtn't to be allowed. I mean, it's so painful to see; and 
it's not as if one could do anything. They're not beggars, 
don't you know, and so what can one do ?" But most of 
the Stoics did not look at them at all, feeling that their 
soft hearts could not stand these painful sights, and 
anxious not to spoil their dinners. 

This is perhaps not altogether generous. It 
would surely be unfair if it were applied to all 
the members of all the clubs. Yet on the whole 
the evidence seems to show that, though it is 
only a few steps from the Nelson Monument to 
the nearest of the clubhouses, the distance from 
protesting democracy in the Square to the com- 
placent clubman in Pall Mall is almost too great 
to be measured. 

But the distance from Pall Mall to Whitehall 
is much easier to traverse. The clubman can 
cut down by Waterloo Place to Green Park, stroll 



VICTORIAN LONDON 255 

across the Mall and Horse Guards Parade, and 
through Downing Street past No. 10, the Prime 
Minister's residence, into Whitehall, flanked with 
the great citadels of the bureaucracy. In vulgar 
feet and inches it seems much farther than to the 
Square; but in subtle reality it is infinitely nearer. 
For the man of many possessions who makes this 
little excursion finds himself in perfect sympathy 
with the Whitehall surroundings. His own estate 
is reduplicated here in the large. This is where 
England quarters the chief stewards and head 
bailiffs who watch over her holdings in Asia and 
Africa and America. There are many great build- 
ings on either side the way. Like much of the 
rest of London this neighborhood furnishes a 
record in stone of history from James I to 
George V. The Banqueting House is the oldest 
monument, rich in its history as a royal palace. 

Henry [VIII] dies at Whitehall. It seems the favorite 
palace of the Stuarts; James and Charles I both plan 
sumptuous palaces on its site. Then one bitter January 
day Charles walks out of one of the windows of the 
Banqueting House to meet his doom. Cromwell reigns and 
dies there. The place one would think would be too full 
of horror and tragedy for Charles II to live there, but there 
he spends his careless hours, unequally divided between 
political craft and reckless voluptuousness. Three years 
later a boat puts out from the Terrace and takes away 



256 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the last Stuart King. The dynasty floats away in that 
wherry into space. Then there arrives a Dutch prince 
with an asthma which forbids him to live so near the river, 
the palace is deserted, and soon afterwards burned down 
by another native of Holland, a laundress drying linen in 
her room. A casual ailment disestablishes the ancient 
palace. And so the glory passes from Whitehall and it 
dwindles into a realm of red tape. 1 

The new War Office is a twentieth-century 
structure. Halfway between the Tudors and the 
present day is the Horse Guards. To the man of 
sentiment the relics of the past may be most inter- 
esting; but to the sightseer who likes bigness, 
the three most imposing buildings are this 
War Office, the Admiralty, and the Government 
Offices — Foreign, Colonial, India, and Home. 
These great piles with their enormous staff of 
officials, big and little, are in a way the logical 
outcome of the South Sea and East India houses. 
They are maintained as a part of the system 
which created Colonel Newcome, and they pro- 
tect the commerce in which Mr. Merdle may 
have made his spectacular investments. 

By the middle of the century it was the polite 
and established custom to recognize two points 
concerning them: first, that they had to be man- 

1 Address by the Earl of Rosebery. London Topographical 
Record, VI, 24-25. 



VICTORIAN LONDON 257 

aged somehow, and second, that they were 
managed all wrong. Carlyle's comments, for 
instance, 1 are quite his own even though they 
are almost commonplace expressions of mid- 
century discontent. 

Every colony, every agent for a matter colonial, has 
his tragic tale to tell you of his sad experiences in the 
Colonial Office What the Colonial Office, inhabit- 
ing the head of Downing Street, really was and had to do, 
or try doing, in God's practical Earth, he could not by 
any means precisely get to know; believes that it doesn't 

itself in the least precisely know Believes that 

nobody knows — that it is a mystery, a kind of heathen 
myth — and stranger than any piece of the old mythological 
Pantheon; for it practically presides over the destinies of 
many millions of livingmen ! 

With the Foreign Office, affairs seemed to be in a 
rather worse way; in the Home Office they seemed, 
to Carlyle, most hopeless of all. 

> One satisfaction was freely open to the army of 
Government Office dignitaries as they were held 
up to scorn by essayists and novelists, and this was 
that they fared no worse than did Parliament 
and the Ministry. "Who shall be Premier, and 
take in hand the 'rudder of government,' other- 
wise called the 'spigot of taxation'; shall it be 

1 See in Carlyle's Latter Day Pamphlets, 1850, the essays on 
"Downing Street" and "New Downing Street." 



258 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

the Honourable Felix Par villus, or the Right 
Honourable Felicissimus Zero?" Perhaps the 
most famous bit of irony is Dickens'. 1 

I am joined with eleven others in reporting the debates 
in Parliament for a Morning Newspaper. Night after 
night I record predictions that never come to pass, pro- 
fessions that are never fulfilled, explanations that are 
meant only to mystify. I wallow in words; Britannia, 
that unfortunate female, is always before me, like a 
trussed fowl: skewered through and through with office 
pens, and bound hand and foot with red tape. I am 
sufficiently behind the scenes to know the worth of political 
life. I am quite an infidel about it, and shall never be 
converted. 

Among the many satisfactions granted to the 
"M.P.'s" of then and now, not the least must 
have been the satisfaction of being adequately 
housed. The vast Gothic collection of courts 
and halls and offices, known as the Houses of 
Parliament, eight acres of them, is impressive in 
beauty as well as in size. The advantage of its 
site on the river, and the dignity of its neighbors, 
the greatest of which are Westminster Abbey 
and Westminster Hall, both contribute to its own 
dignity. Whatever historian or traveler may have 
thought about British government in general or 

'See David Copperfield, 1852, the opening paragraphs of chap, 
xliii. 




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VICTORIAN LONDON 259 

in particular, this seat of legislature at the home 
of British Government is worth going a long way 
to see. The fine enterprise necessary to carrying 
through such great public works was not lacking 
throughout the century. There is no better 
evidence to be found than in this undertaking or 
in the great Victoria Embankment which runs 
east from here for a mile and a third along the 
north bank of the river. It was a big engineering 
project. Thirty-seven acres were reclaimed for 
it from the river. The fine boulevard stretches 
in a royal curve from Westminster to Blackfriars. 
It cost millions, and it was worth millions; but 
in a way this very achievement, accomplished 
at a time when the skies were brightening, throws 
light on the complaint of the critics at what was 
all along the inclination of the government, to 
adopt some fine measures and many futile ones 
to the neglect of the most important of all. 

Canada question, Irish appropriation question, West 
India question, Queen's Bedchamber question; Game 
Laws, Usury Laws; African Blacks, Hill Coolies, Smith- 
field cattle, and Dog-carts, — all manner of questions and 
subjects, except simply this the alpha and omega of all! 
Surely Honourable Members ought to speak of the 
Condition-of-England question too. 1 

1 See Carlyle, Chartism, chap, i, paragraph 5. 



260 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Since the days of the Reform Laws, when the 
mob had held Parliament in siege and had stormed 
the Duke of Wellington in Apsley House, Pic- 
cadilly, the discontent of the people had by no 
means waned, even though seventeen years had 
passed. Throughout the early months of 1848 
the bitter discontent of the working classes was 
becoming steadily more rancorous. When the 
revolution broke out on the Continent in February 
the situation was doubly aggravated. At home 
and abroad the lower classes were hoping for 
political freedom, and feeling that somehow or 
other if it could be achieved most of their troubles 
would be brought to an end. Riots followed in 
the big cities all over the kingdom, and when 
in April a particularly offensive piece of legisla- 
tion, "the Gagging Act," was passed, London 
had to be rilled with troops and the Duke of 
Wellington to be once more put in command. 
The public buildings were garrisoned and bar- 
ricaded, and though the threatened uprising was 
more or less of a fiasco, to which a half-comic 
touch was lent by the depressing effect of a 
drenching rain, the passing of the crisis afforded 
the old hero and the Home Secretary a relief 
which was almost beyond words. Two months 
later there was another scare, but, in spite of 



VICTORIAN LONDON 261 

all, Parliament justified Kingsley in quoting at 

them: 

There they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands, 

But they smile, they find a music, centred in a doleful song, 
Steaming up, a lamentation, and an ancient tale of wrong, 
Like a tale of little meaning, though the words are strong, 
Chanted by an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil, 
Sow the seed and reap the harvest with enduring toil, 
Storing little yearly dues of wheat, and wine, and oil ; 
Till they perish, and they suffer — some, 'tis whispered, 

down in hell 
Suffer endless anguish ! 

Such agitations could not continue indefinitely 
without producing results. Public sentiment was 
so deep and widespread and public spokesmen 
were so gifted that legislation, backed by public 
opinion, brought about a succession of happy 
changes. When Dickens and Thackeray, Charles 
Kingsley and Charles Reade, Ruskin and Morris 
were but a few of the men who were preaching 
the gospel of discontent, the voice of the people 
was bound to gain a hearing. 

In the meanwhile certain fine national projects 
in the fields of art and of science were being quietly 
perfected. The National Gallery in Trafalgar 
Square, built between 1832 and 1838 and since 
then three times considerably enlarged, though 



262 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

it started from small beginnings which moved 
John Ruskin to ridicule, finally developed so 
that even he admitted its contents to be "the 
most important collection of paintings in Europe 
for the purposes of the general student." Hardly 
less notable — no less so in the aggregate — are the 
two great collections presented to the people by 
individual donors, the Wallace, on Manchester 
Square, and the Tate, on the Thames below 
Westminster Abbey. The life of London Uni- 
versity is again, from establishment to re-estab- 
lishment, almost exactly coincident with Queen 
Victoria's reign. From 1836 to 1900 this institu- 
tion was a simple examining board giving degrees 
first to candidates from a limited set of colleges, 
then to men students wherever educated, and 
finally to women students. But it was reorgan- 
ized to include about twenty-five existing 
"Schools" in eight faculties and is now an active 
institution of great scope. Eminent above any 
of these is, of course, the British Museum, which 
goes back to the year 1700 for its origin, but 
which has taken its greatest strides during the 
last half-century. The present building was 
started in 1823; the vast domed reading-room 
was completed in 1857; additions are still being 
made and there is little sign of their ever coming 



VICTORIAN LONDON 263 

to a total stop. It is a wonderful storehouse. 
The collections of a hundred kinds, some of them 
complete gifts, and others ever increasing, are 
more than any one mind can grasp. The great 
library, which grows at the rate of about a thou- 
sand books a week, is a marvel of completeness. 
Londoners as a rule treat the Museum with re- 
spectful neglect, seldom raising the echoes in its 
resounding corridors; but all the rest of the world 
swarms through them. 

It remains to mention literary London — no 
easy task, for the men of letters were scattered 
over the entire metropolis. To attempt to men- 
tion all of them in their relation to the big city 
would be to degenerate into guidebookishness. 
Hither and yon they lived and worked, circulating 
in and out of town with universal restlessness. 
The literary public, as a book-reading and book- 
purchasing multitude, had so far multiplied, that 
eminence in authorship usually brought with it 
at least freedom from money worries. Perhaps 
one reason for the kaleidoscopic movings of the 
author folk was that the best known of them were 
able to progress from economy to comfort and 
from comfort to luxury. For the most part the 
old City saw little of them. All along the neigh- 
borhoods of Holborn and Oxford Street from 



264 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Bloomsbury to Hyde Park tablets record their 
temporary indwellings. One outlying suburb is 
worth especial remark. 

The borough in all London which became 
prominent as a colony of writers and artists 
toward the middle of the century was Chelsea. 
This was a little district almost exactly equal in 
territory to the old City, and somewhat more 
than three miles southwest of Charing Cross by 
road, or over four by river. From here Carlyle 
wrote to his wife when he engaged a house in 1834: 

We lie safe at a bend of the river, away from all the 
great roads, have air and quiet hardly inferior to Craigen- 
puttock, an outlook from the back windows into more 
leafy regions, with here and there a red high-peaked roof 
looking through, and see nothing of London except by 
day the summits of St. Paul's Cathedral and Westminster 
Abbey, and by night the gleam of the great Babylon, 
affronting the peaceful skies. 

The emotions of the recently successful house- 
hunter with reference to his find are likely to be 
unreliable. He searches to the point of exhaustion 
and then, to justify his desperate choice, he is 
bound to describe the place in the language of a 
real estate auctioneer. The Carlyles lived at 
5 Cheyne Row for forty-seven years, but the 
quiet, "hardly inferior to Craigenputtock," later 
became such a myth that the "sage of Chelsea" 







K ~ 



VICTORIAN LONDON 265 

verged on extravagance in his attempts to build 
himself a sound-proof study lighted from above, 
and in spite of his investment was annoyed by the 
roar of the great city, which his extra doors and 
partitions could muffle but could not shut out. 

The accumulated habit of years in the coun- 
try made a discord out of the same sounds which 
rang like music in the ears of citified Leigh Hunt 
when he retired to Chelsea : 

I got to like the very cries in the street, for making 
me the more aware of it by the contrast. I fancied they 
were unlike the cries in other quarters of the suburbs, and 
that they retained something of the old quaintness and 
melodiousness which procured them the reputation of 
having been composed by Purcell and others. Nor is this 
unlikely when it is considered how fond those masters were 
of sporting with their art, and setting the most trivial 
words to music in their glees and catches. The primitive 
cries of cowslips, primroses, and hot cross-buns seemed 
never to have quitted this sequestered region. They 
were like daisies in a bit of surviving field. There was 
an old seller of fish, in particular, whose cry of "Shrimps 
as large as prawns!" was such a regular, long-drawn, and 
truly pleasing melody, that in spite of his hoarse, and I 
am afraid drunken voice, I used to wish for it of an 
evening, and hail it when it came. It lasted for some 
years; then faded, and went out; I suppose with the 
poor old weather-beaten fellow's existence. 1 

'Leigh Hunt, Autobiography, chap. xxiv. 



266 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

From time to time Carlyle, with due reluctance, 
went up to town; more and more frequently, as the 
years went on, the mountain came to Mahomet. 
One of the most picturesque of these visits was 
from Count d'Orsay in 1839: 

About a fortnight ago, this Phoebus Apollo of dandy- 
ism ... . came whirling hither in a chariot that struck 
all Chelsea into mute amazement with its splendour. 
Chorley's under jaw went like the hopper or under riddle 
of a pair of fanners, such was his terror on bringing such 
a splendour into actual contact with such a grimness. 
Nevertheless, we did amazingly well, the Count and I. 
.... Jane laughed for two days at the contrast of my 
plaid dressing gown, bilious, iron countenance, and this 
Paphian apparition. 1 

Cheyne Row and Cheyne Walk form together 
a short continuous street, fronting on the Chelsea 
Embankment to the Thames and facing Battersea 
Park across the river. The double view of wood 
and water attracted other congenial spirits to the 
neighborhood. The most famous landmark on 
the Walk was Queen's House at No. 16, of which 
Dante Gabriel Rossetti was tenant during the 
last twenty years of his own life and the last 
nineteen of Carlyle's. It is associated, rather 
ingeniously, with traditions of Henry VIII, 
though probably built by Wren more than a 

1 Letter to Dr. John Carlyle, April 16, 1839. 



VICTORIAN LONDON 267 

hundred years too late to have housed either of 
his Catherines. Swinburne and William Michael 
Rossetti lived for a time here with Dante Gabriel, 
and George Meredith engaged a room which he 
never occupied. To No. 4 George Eliot came 
late in her career, occupying it for the few weeks 
before her death. Holman Hunt, recently buried 
in St. Paul's where his most famous picture, 
"The Light of the World," was hung, had a 
studio in Cheyne Walk. Near the western end 
J. M. W. Turner spent his last days, and only a 
few streets away James MacNeill Whistler had a 
studio for many years. There must have been 
abundant ozone in the Chelsea atmosphere. 

\Not in Chelsea alone. There was a stimulat- 
ing something in the atmosphere of all London 
throughout the period. Seldom has there been 
deeper breathing, heartier joking, more uproari- 
ous laughter, or sterner invective. The general 
discontent that prevailed in Victorian London 
belonged to the spirit of the age, which was an 
age of transition. If the early century was 
troubled, as it surely was, it was by "the cheerful 
trouble of change." And if the adjustments 
which were incessantly taking place made more 
for chaos than order, it was because "the creed 
of humanity was on its honeymoon." 



268 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Yet the working-out of new problems in the 
midst of the old City is recorded again and again 
in Victorian fiction. Alton Locke and Felix Holt 
are logical predecessors of Robert Elsmere and 
Marcella and All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
They are alike in their serious hopefulness. If 
they, and all their kind, had not this note in 
common, the sober lovers of London could not 
have been breaking out every now and then into 
exclamations of boyish fun. Here, for instance, 
was Richard Jefferies, by no means a frivolous 
soul. As a nature lover he recognized the forces 
of evolution at work in the unhappy invasion 
of the countryside by the big town. Yet he 
was stirred by the "presence of man in his 
myriads"; he was attracted as by a lodestone, 
often to go "to London without any object 
whatever, but just because I must, and, arriving 
there, wander withersoever the hurrying throng 
carries me." As his moods varied, London was 
poetry and music to him, or philanthropy, or 
merely the source of comfortable amiability. 
Here is the old song, the song of the London 
streets, familiar through the centuries, and recog- 
nizable still though set to a new melody and to 
a new key: 

How delicious now to walk down Regent Street, 
along Piccadilly, up Bond Street, and so on, in a widening 



VICTORIAN LONDON 269 

circle, with a thousand pounds in one's pocket, just to 

spend, all your own, and no need to worry To 

take a lady— the lady— to St. Peter Robinson's, and spread 
the silks of the earth before her feet, and see the awaken- 
ing delight in her eyes and the glow on her cheek; to buy 
a pony for the "kids," and a diamond brooch for the kind 
middle-aged matron who befriended you years since in 

time of financial need Could Xerxes, could great 

Pompey, could Caesar with all his legions, could Lucullus 
with all his oysters, have ever enjoyed such pleasure as 
this — just to spend money freely, with a jolly chuckle, in 
the streets of London ? .... No joy like waste in London 
streets — happy waste, imaginative extravagance; to and 
fro like a butterfly! 1 

The last quarter of the century brought with 
it more of reposeful sophistication, and as the 
excitement died down the great men who died 
with it were not at once replaced. Now as the 
student of affairs looks about him it becomes 
apparent that the London life of the four Georges 
has gone and a new literature is springing up to 
reflect the London of George the Fifth. "South 
Africa " is already becoming a tradition ; Victoria's 
successor has passed away. 

Illustrative Readings 
Biography 

Cross, J. W., Life of George Eliot. 

Harrison, Frederic, Autobiographical Memories. 

1 Richard Jefferies, Amaryllis at the Fair, 1887. 



270 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Mackail, J. W., Life of William Morris. 

Martineau, Harriet, Autobiography. 
Contemporary Satire and Description 

The selection of material under this head is extremely 
difficult. A complete reading of the greatest essayists 
of the period will yield material all along the way. In 
Carlyle's Latter Day Pamphlets and his essay on Chartism, 
for instance, there is much illuminating material. So also 
in Arnold's Culture and Anarchy; in much of Ruskin, and 
in Morris' comments on the times, and, by way of con- 
trast, in certain of his prose romances. But the list of 
possibilities is too long to be undertaken. 

Drama 

As in connection with chap, viii, the available resources 
have been few. It would include such plays as Milestones 
by Arnold Bennett; Widowers' Houses by Bernard 
Shaw; Disraeli by Louis Parker, and the contemporary 
play Society by T. W. Robertson (1865). 

Fiction 

Besant, Walter, and Rice, James, All Sorts and 

Conditions of Men. 
James, Henry, A London Life; The Siege of London; 

Tales of Three Cities. 
Kingsley, Charles, Alton Locke; Yeast. 
Reade, Charles, Put Yourself in His Place. 
Trollope, Anthony, Barchester Towers, chaps, vi, xx; 

The Prime Minister; The Way We Live Now. 
Ward, Mrs. Humphrey, Marcella; Robert Elsmere. 



CHAPTER X 
CONTEMPORARY LONDON 

To even the amateur student of London tradi- 
tion the great city of the present is like an old 
parchment which has been written on and erased, 
re-covered with script and re-erased, until what 
exists today shows beneath the latest superficial 
transcript microscopic traces of all the romantic 
stories written on it since the hour when it first 
lay immaculate beneath the pen of the mediaeval 
cleric. The very lay of the land shows how much 
of a palimpsest London is. The dust of the 
centuries has drifted round it, gradually raising 
the ground level so that the records of the past 
are packed in layers beneath the pavements of 
today. These strata are dear to the heart of the 
archaeologist — the ashes from the fire of 1666, 
the relics of the days between Shakespeare and 
Chaucer, the traces of mediaeval life, and finally 
the signs of Norman, Anglo-Saxon, and even 
Roman London. 

It is from fifteen to thirty feet from top to 
bottom of this artificial heap, and through it the 
builder of every modern bank or business block 

271 



272 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

must grub to get to his foundations. There is, 
of course, something prosaic to the average 
romance-fed mind in digging a hole in which to 
plant an up-to-date hotel. Fancy would rather 
dwell on sand-buried cities in the oriental desert 
than on London caked in under the grime of its 
own debris. Yet now and then an adventurer 
turns up who would as soon glean along after the 
Underground engineers as fit out an expedition 
for Egypt. Such a one was the late James Smith 
of Whitechapel, by business a dealer in bones 
and scrap iron, and by avocation the greatest 
collector of recent years. Antiquities were the 
exciting by-product of his trade. Now and then, 
moreover, students of the past feel an especial 
interest over the evidence of ancient life in the 
midst of life still going on; and herein lies a 
pre-eminent charm of present-day London. This 
charm is not to be accounted for in the mere 
accumulation of monuments and relics. The 
collections are only incidental symbols of the 
recollections. The fixed traditions in London 
social life are much more interesting than the 
strata in the "made" earth. London theology 
is quite as absorbing as the church architecture. 
And the attitude of the whole community toward 
the vague and yet rather definite subject of Things 




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CONTEMPORARY LONDON 273 

in General is, like the literature of the present, 
full of reminders of all that London has expe- 
rienced in the course of the last several centuries. 

Not that the substantial memorials in stone 
and mortar are without interest, for many of 
them are infinitely suggestive. Most extensive 
is the old Wall. Streets which used to lead to 
and through the old gates still bear their names, 
and a street called London Wall follows the 
reach at the back of the City from Cripplegate 
to beyond Moorgate. In a narrow strip thereon 
between the sidewalk and St. Alphage's Church 
is a sturdy fragment of the old fortification which 
is easily recognizable if one is on the hunt for it. 
The other most famous surviving bit is in the 
corner of another churchyard, that of St. Giles 
Cripplegate. All around it are modern business 
buildings. The yard is ingeniously hidden among 
them, but the sight is worth a patient search; for 
the consecrated ground, hemmed in as it is, and 
rudely violated by an asphalt, iron-railed passage 
way, is a beautiful garden spot, in one corner of 
which the high-battlemented mole looks much as 
it may have a thousand years ago. 

More recent, for it dates back only to 1078, 
is the Tower. This castle, palace, prison, is the 
most conspicuous landmark of London east of 



274 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

St. Paul's. By Chaucer's time the general aspect 
of the building group was comparable to what it 
is today. Its history was particularly rich in 
incident during the sixteenth and seventeenth 
centuries from Henry VIII to Charles II. Now it 
is an arsenal and a museum, the repository for 
the royal jewels and the residence of a large 
number of dependents on the Crown. It is not 
hard to step out of the present when one enters 
its ominous gateway. The dull voice of the city 
might be the roar of the tide-driven Thames 
passing between the starlings of old London 
Bridge. As one moves from point to point, 
among the different cells and across the execution 
ground, one gets an idea of the slightness of human 
life in the old days when it could be confined or 
snuffed out by the arbitrary command of king, 
bishop, or minister. The Tower is the incarnate 
strength of past ages. The thought of attacking 
it with such weapons as the past ages could afford 
is a clear absurdity. Strangely enough, though 
it is a puny thing compared to Gibraltar, the 
Tower gives one a feeling of greater security than 
that mountainous fortress. For it measures up 
with the strength of an epoch when stone walls 
could "a prison make, and iron bars a cage"; 
but Gibraltar might conceivably crumble at the 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 275 

assault from above and below of artillery and 
explosives of the sort that modern governments 
are running mad over. 

Two miles up the river on the other side of old 
London, a substantial old building, sightly in 
itself, is over-shadowed by the present Houses of 
Parliament. Westminster Hall, like the Tower, 
was outside the City, was started shortly after 
the Conquest, was variously altered and enlarged, 
and stands unimpaired today. Like the Tower, 
too, it was the scene of many grim tribunals. 
Under its roof Richard II was deposed, and 
Charles II condemned to death. So too were 
William Wallace, Guy Fawkes, and the Earl 
of Strafford; and so was not Warren Hastings, 
who was acquitted here after his seven years' 
ordeal. The old order, changing, took away as 
it passed many of the most picturesque ceremonials 
which used to take place in the Hall. With 
George IV came the last coronation banquet, 
and the last appearance of a king's champion 
with his challenge to any who might question 
the title of the sovereign. Now Westminster Hall 
does duty only as a vestibule to the Houses 
of Parliament, the past serving for an ante- 
chamber to the present. 1 

1 See above, chap, iii, p. 75. 



276 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Yet the present, if the Houses of Parliament 
are to stand for it, is unhappily ill at ease. As 
far back as history can trace the records, there 
has been centered here an incessant struggle 
between the few who were the governors and 
the many who wished to have a hand on the 
tiller. Steadily the power of the Commoners has 
encroached on that of the Lords and always the 
right of helping elect the Commoners themselves 
has been more and more widely extended. Now 
the vanguard of the suffragettes are doing militant 
service in Parliament Square at the same time 
that the members of the lower house are laying 
down the conditions under which they will allow 
the Lords to participate any longer in the affairs 
of state. Every year it becomes harder to make 
a convincing explanation of the tradition which 
accounts for the contrast between the sumptuous 
trappings of the House of Lords and the plainer 
furnishings of the House of Commons, for the 
very existence of the Peers' right to rule is in 
the balance, and it will not be long before their 
tenure of power will depend on something more 
vital than the unsupported accident of birth. 

The Guildhall, just north of Cheapside, fur- 
nishes another link with antiquity. It was built 
in 141 1 on the site of an earlier hall which had 




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CONTEMPORARY LONDON 277 

the same name; just why, is not known. The 
Great Fire unroofed it and the present rebuilt 
Hall has been tinkered with since its restoration 
in the seventeenth century. For five hundred 
years it has served as the Council Hall of the 
City. The Lord Mayor's banquet is still held 
there on the 9th of November. But its chief 
claim to attention is as a relic, the great and 
beautiful Hall serving as a show room annexed 
to the museum and the library, which are shuffled 
through by miscellaneous sightseers and haunted 
by students of old London. A famous address 
to George III by Lord Mayor Beckford, now 
recorded on his monument there, may, if it was 
actually delivered, have been shocking to the 
King. Whether it was or not, it served in point 
of directness as an admirable precedent for 
Colonel Roosevelt's utterances on Egypt at the 
banquet in the spring of 19 10. Thus was the 
Guildhall like the latest edition of the Britannica — 
"brought down to date." 

\As a group the London church buildings 
from Westminster Abbey down stand out in 
brave array. Some, such as the Abbey and 
St. Mary Overies across the river in Southwark, 
were not in the fire-swept district. Six others 
actually in the City survived 1666. Wren's 



278 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

industry in the following years has already been 
mentioned. The expansion of London since 
his time, if all other records failed, could be traced 
in the church architecture of the widening zones. 
And many of these churches are crowded with 
memories of famous worshipers and of intimate 
ceremonials in the lives of the great, as well as 
with the actual inscriptions and monuments with 
which their tombs are marked. 

In the church service the familiar interweaving 
of tradition with modern life is continually dis- 
played. A recent twilight experience in and near 
St. Paul's will serve as an illustration. Late in 
an autumn day I entered the cathedral, not so 
much to look up any particular memorial as to 
enjoy the massive quiet of the great pile. Wander- 
ing about somewhat aimlessly, I discovered that 
the vesper service was soon to take place. Al- 
though the nave and aisles had seemed to be 
thinly peopled, the approach of the service sud- 
denly assembled several hundred worshipers with- 
out apparently attracting any large numbers 
from outside. As the reading of the prayers and 
the lessons and the responses of the choir rever- 
berated under the dome, two ideas contributed 
to the impressive dignity of the hour. One was 
that under countless other roofs like services were 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 279 

being carried on at that same time and in the same 
way; and the other was that here on this spot 
ever since the days of the first St. Paul's, some 
such ceremonial had been daily observed. In- 
stitutionally the service stood for stupendous 
length and breadth of influence. 

I Coming out into the twentieth-century London 
of motor 'busses and evening newspapers, I 
attempted to re-enter the past by way of Pater- 
noster Row, which rambles from St. Paul's 
Churchyard to Amen Corner and Amen Court. 
It is a secluded and unworldly little alley, still, 
as in the past, largely bordered by bookshops, 
most of them stocked with the kind of literature 
which one would expect in the neighborhood. 
Poetry, fiction, and travel have insinuated their 
way into these precincts, but the presence of such 
failed to prepare one for the startling spectacle 
of a sign labeling a generous row of books: 
"Modern Theology Greatly Reduced!" This in 
the very shadow of established orthodoxy. 

If one chose to swell the catalogue, other 
structures in considerable numbers could be dis- 
cussed as representing successive steps in London 
history all down the line. From the preceding 
chapters could easily be culled a long list of sur- 
viving buildings which would be no more than a 



280 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

nucleus for the complete inventory that would 
satisfy an antiquarian. Yet the associations 
which cluster round an edifice cannot begin to 
rival those which belong to a thoroughfare. 
Bishopsgate Street and Cheapside are just as 
much on the map now as they ever were. Friday, 
and Wood, and Bread, and Milk streets punctuate 
the City exactly as they did when Milton trod 
them. A church loses some of its original charm 
every time that it is restored. To keep it from 
tumbling to pieces we have in a way to cheapen it. 
But the thing that makes a street a street cannot 
tumble to pieces. We are utterly careless as to 
whether the cobblestones are new or old; for a 
street is not a condition ; it is a fact. 

This fact, if the traveler can feel it as well as 
know it, may quite thrill him as he goes about in 
the old neighborhoods. A memory of the map 
of Shakespeare's London with the main thorough- 
fares and their relative positions is enough to 
insure any wayfarer against being even tem- 
porarily lost in the heart of London. He can find 
his way above ground with only the kind of 
difficulty that gives a zest to his little journeys; 
and if he descend underground into the "Tube" 
he can know that he is still zigzagging round to 
connect with the intersections of roads that were 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 281 

immemorially old before rapid transit was ever 
dreamed of. There is only one straight line of 
any length in the whole anatomical-looking 
diagram of these blue and red low-ways, and that 
follows the course of Oxford and Kensington 
High streets and of Holborn. 

What is true of the streets is no less true of 
the public squares. In the oldest parts of town 
there are few of them. Perhaps because open 
country was so near at hand in the old days, the 
largest breathing-spaces, except within the pre- 
cincts of the men of law, were tiny paved courts. 
But outside the City proper, the fine estates as 
they became hemmed in did not surrender all 
their acres for building purposes. In Bloomsbury, 
for instance, the "Square" was formed by that 
Earl of Southampton who was the son of Shake- 
speare's patron and the father of Lady Rachel 
Russell — "our square," Lady Russell called it. 
She was the mistress of Bedford House, which 
occupied the whole north side. Her name now 
survives in Russell Square, and that of her house 
in Bedford Place, which connects Russell and 
Bloomsbury squares, as well as in near-by Bed- 
ford Square. Today, as in the past, the greens 
in the midst of them are railed in, either closed 
to all but a privileged few, or opened to the com- 



282 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

moner under explicit limitation as to hours and 
use. Yet they are grateful to the wayfarer. 
All along in this region you may walk for miles 
and seldom be long out of sight of some open 
space with fine trees, an immaculate turf, and 
the beautiful blooms of the English perennials 
which flourish in the mild moisture of the English 
year. Often, too, completely surrounded by 
buildings and unknown to the passer-by, is a 
lovely garden in perfect trim maintained by 
the estate which collects the rents and enjoyed 
by the householders who pay them; a garden, 
perhaps, which through its ancient ownership 
supplies a garland to connect us with the days 
of Richard Steele, and beyond these, almost with 
the age of Shakespeare. 

In general, then, the old streets and old squares 
prevail, the rejection of the various plans for 
remodeling the burned city insuring less conven- 
tional geometry but a more historic atmosphere 
for the London we know. Here and there, of 
course, some bold imagination has acknowledged 
a pressing need and carried through all the intri- 
cate business of securing rights of way and in- 
demnifying outraged property-owners in order 
to cut a wide swath between two congested 
centers. Such is Queen Victoria Street, a bold 




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284 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

diagonal from the Bank to Blackfriars, and 
Regent Street, the sweep already mentioned 
connecting Oxford and Piccadilly circuses; and 
such is the latest of these achievements, Kingsway, 
a short, wide avenue from Holborn to the Strand. 
So are the passing experiences of George IV, 
Victoria, and Edward VII recorded in the very 
structure of the city, superimposed like their 
own lives on the earlier history of their royal 
predecessors. 

It is only a fair distribution of honors. Kings- 
way has obliterated a patch of slums and some 
narrow streets and alleys; it did a service in 
admitting light and air and in making it easier 
to get about. Such a process destroyed little. 
The memory of the past is a shade more dim, as 
it should be in the natural course of things, but 
only a shade, for from either side of the new 
boulevard the old streets amble off between their 
narrow boundaries. Drury Lane runs at a tangent 
from its foot, Kean and Kemble streets are near 
the theater these actors helped make famous. 
Great Queen Street a little farther on makes a 
passage to Long Acre on the west; just a few 
steps to the east Lincoln's Inn Fields lie undefiled; 
and only a minute or two beyond the upper end 
Red Lion Square is yet as quietly secluded as at 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 285 

any time these last few centuries. One would 
even have a leg to stand on if he argued that these 
modern encroachments re-emphasize the past 
quite as much as they violate it. 

Subject to the most melancholy of changes is 
the greatest highway of all — the Thames. From 
Blackfriars Bridge east it is lined with buildings 
on either side; from Blackfriars west the north 
side has been redeemed all the way to Chelsea. 
Some day, perhaps, when further incalculable 
sums have been expended to buy back for the 
Thames the banks that should never have been 
stolen from it, the river will once more be a thing 
of beauty; but in the London of modern times 
no heavier tax can be put upon the imagination 
than the attempt to picture it as blue and spark- 
ling, dotted with white swans, crowded with 
passengers and pleasure-seekers, and, below Lon- 
don Bridge, rilled with tall-masted ships. Now 
the shipping is all taken care of at the east end of 
the city, and from there all the way down to 
Gravesend and the open sea. Tugs and barges 
that can slip under the low bridges make an in- 
cessant display of ugly industry upon its turbid 
waters. There is no Vauxhall to go to any more, 
except the Vauxhall station. No one goes to 
that by row-boat; the sharp-nosed steamers can 



286 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

do better, and the Tube is faster still. London 
has overwhelmed the Thames, 

The subtle, ancient, sullen flood 
Whom never any passions stir. 1 

The oldest of the parks has fared better than 
the river, for in general it has become at once 
more picturesque in its native loveliness and more 
useful to the people as the centuries have passed. 
Henry VIII secured the Manor of Hyde from the 
convent of Westminster for a game preserve. 
As such it was held until Charles I opened it to the 
public. In the period of the Commonwealth 
Parliament sold it to private owners for £18,000 
in ready money, a transaction that was cheerfully 
repudiated at the Restoration. From the days 
of Charles II the parks nearest the Thames, now 
Hyde, Green, and St. James's, have been the resort 
of fashion. Vogue first made "the Ring" in 
Hyde Park the favorite rendezvous and parade 
ground, then the Mall in St. James's, then the 
Queen's Walk in Green Park, and now again 
Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. The free- 
dom and easiness, the frankness of display, the 
vulgarity if you will, which marked the parades 
of earlier days are gone. Yet the recognition of 

'Arthur H. Adams, "Cheyne Walk, Chelsea," from London 
Streets. 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 287 

class and privilege, as Mr. Howells has pointed 
out, 1 is no less real today even though less visibly 
demanded, and yielded in tacit respect. This use 
of the parks by one part of the public is a modified 
survival of traditions centuries old, and it is very 
interesting. 

Far more so, however, is the change in the 
scheme of things which is most effectively demon- 
strated on Sunday afternoons up in the corner of 
Hyde Park near the Marble Arch. This is within 
a stone's throw of Tyburn, the famous execution 
ground. The days of great disorder in London 
were the days of most frequent death penalties 
and of utmost constabular uselessness. A man 
could talk himself into prison if not to the gallows, 
provided he was caught ; but where one suffered — 
and far too many did — dozens talked and acted 
with impunity. In Hyde Park in 1780, at the 
time of the Gordon Riots, there were 10,000 
soldiers in camp. Yet the riots went on for 
seven days. Now the public gallows is gone 
and the stocks and pillory are things of the past. 
The soldiery can be seen from time to time acting 
their part in state pageants of one sort and an- 
other. The matter of keeping order seldom 

1 See W. D. Howells, London Films, chap, ii, "Civic and Social 
Comparisons, Mostly Odious." 



288 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

attracts one's attention; the London "bobbie" 
is ever present, courteous, quiet, and impassive, 
but to the eye he is hardly more than a kind of 
uniformed street usher. And up in the neighbor- 
hood of the Marble Arch you can see him standing 
half bored while bloody insurrection is being 
invoked upon the crowd which surrounds him. 
Apparently he is deaf; yet he is quick to answer 
an inquiring stranger who has lost his way. 
Not deaf, then, but simply so used to vocal agita- 
tion as not to be interested in it. Anarchy, free 
trade, equal suffrage, evangelism — to him they 
are all legitimate subjects for discussion. He 
has no opinion about them. He is not looking 
for trouble, he is looking for order; and he almost 
always finds it, because the social scheme, of 
which he is a casual index, is far better than it 
used to be in "the good old days." 

Still another sign of change is the passing of the 
Jehu. The tribe of Tony Wellers has been rail- 
roaded out of existence, and the cabby of today, 
though he is making a last stand for it, has had 
notice served on him by the thousands of "taxi" 
chauffeurs. There is no particular poetry in 
riding behind a glass partition with the sight of 
your fare multiplying itself on a dial in front of 
you, but for "getting there" it is clean and roomy 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 289 

and smooth-running and amazingly cheap in 
London. Not so much can be said for the motor 
'bus. The old horse 'bus driver was an institu- 
tion. He knew London and he could talk about 
it picturesquely. By profession he was an ageless 
creature who had been sitting half crouched above 
the streets since he first drove on them in 1829. 
No one ever saw a young driver or a new 'bus. 
The mellow influence of years was as infallibly 
apparent on every side of them as it was in Fleet 
Street itself. Had it been otherwise Baedeker 
could not have featured them with certainty; 
but as it was, thousands of tourists have believed 
what he printed, to their own profit. The first 
experience on one of them is not to be forgotten. 
Up the tortuous steps to the top, and along the 
swaying backbone of the creature to the front 
seat; it projected over the horses' haunches and 
over the curb; it was in imminent deadly peril 
of all sorts of catastrophes, but it never collided 
with anything. "If the driver," said Baedeker, 
"happens to be obliging (and a small gratuity 
will generally make him so), he will afford much 
useful information about the buildings, monu- 
ments, and other sights of the route." Not only 
about these matters, but about history, about the 
spirit of London, about life itself; and of much 



290 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

which he did not offer to explain, he was himself 
the incarnation. He was Democratic Conserva- 
tism in the flesh, and he was Free Speech. He 
was English humor, too, and he had a peculiarly 
quick fund of caustic retort. But he is vanishing. 
If one must choose a tense in speaking of him, it 
is proper to use the past. Young men in visored 
caps now guide the motor 'busses at double speed. 
They are barricaded away from the passengers; 
they may be deaf and dumb for all the public will 
ever know; and the rapid transit which they 
accomplish is paid for by the vibration of a fast 
ocean liner in a heavy sea. The worst feature 
of 'busses old and new, however, is their advertis- 
ing signs, in which respect they sin only as all the 
rest of the town does. The horrors of the practice 
seem never to have been attacked. The joy of it 
seems to have struck deep to the hearts of some 
thousands of men who have things to sell. No 
wonder that Wells and Locke have dwelt on the 
advertising mania of such enterprising manu- 
facturers as Uncle Ponderevo of Tono Bungay 
fame, and Clem Sypher, "Friend of Humanity." 
It's a twentieth-century London on the surface. 
England pleasantly attributes the worst vices of 
its biggest city to the influence of foreign, and 
especially American, travel. For garishness of 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 291 

theater and restaurant and for expensiveness of 
big hotels it can hold up its head with the worst. 
It is slowly giving ground to the department 
store. The penalties of cosmopolitan up-to-date- 
ness are visiting themselves on the oldest city in 
the English-speaking world. Yet it is the fashion- 
able thing to say that London is slow and unpro- 
gressive as compared with New York. American 
business men talk with contempt about the small- 
town methods of their English cousins. It 
appears that they have fewer stenographers per 
capita, do not average so many telephone calls 
per day, get down to business later, and when 
carrying through a transaction involving millions, 
take more time to make up their minds. The 
Englishman, confronted with these deadly accusa- 
tions, replies that proved guilt of such offenses is 
a sign of his superiority. He is proud to admit 
that he is not so busy as other men are, and not 
unwilling also to point out that he gives more 
time to golf and has redder cheeks. Thus what 
might have grown into a comfortable argument 
frays out into a series of hopeless non-sequiturs. 

To begin with, neither John Bull nor Brother 
Jonathan is quite candid about telling the whole 
truth. As a recent critic has pointed out, it is 
the affectation of the American always to act as 



292 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

if he were on the way to business, and the pose 
of the Londoner always to behave as though he 
were on the way home; each one making his 
apology the other man's boast. Furthermore, 
this sort of talk is not capable of any broad 
application, for it concerns only the tiny minority 
of employers and capitalists. To anyone who 
has ever stood on the corner of Wall and Broad 
streets in New York and watched business surge 
through those narrow chasms, the look of the 
crowd in the space inclosed between the Mansion 
House, the Bank of England, and the Exchange 
seems familiar enough. In both places is the 
same lavish outpouring of nervous energy, and 
the same almost uniformly pallid cheek, eager 
eye, and hurried pace. Of course there are local 
differences, but the sober observer sees little to 
choose between an insurance building thirty or 
forty stories high and a national bank building 
four or five acres broad. 

Such matters, however, are negligible. The 
idea to conclude with is that London is one of 
the spots on earth which is filled with ineffable 
charm and immeasurable vitality. As I come to 
the end of the last of these chapters a letter is laid 
on my desk. "In London generally I am having 
the ' time of my life.' Never have I seen so many 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 293 

things that interest and delight me: churches 
and old buildings, manuscripts and books and 
people." This is always the reaction of the man 
with the seeing eye. Whatever may be the kind 
of object on which his gaze delights to rest, he 
can find it in this great town. Then, when he is 
sated with amusement, he can see beneath all the 
array of things visible the presence of something 
"far more deeply interfused." For London is the 
epitome of England and England is the living 
product of history. What the great city means 
as a symbol of modern life has been completely 
stated by Mr. Wells in his epic conclusion to 
Tono Bungay. 

\ To run down the Thames so is to run one's hand over 

the pages in the book of England from end to end 

There come first squalid stretches of mean homes right and 
left and then the dingy industrialism of the south side, 
and on the north bank the polite long front of nice houses, 
artistic, literary, administrative people's residences, that 
stretches from Cheyne Walk nearly to Westminster and 
hides a wilderness of slums. What a long slow crescendo 
that is, mile after mile, with the houses crowding closelier, 
the multiplying succession of church towers, the architec- 
tural monuments, the successive bridges, until you come 
out into the second movement of the piece with Lambeth's 
old palace under your quarter and the houses of Parlia- 
ment on your bow! Westminster Bridge is ahead of you, 
then, and through it you flash, and in a moment the round- 



294 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

faced clock tower cranes up to peer at you again and New 
Scotland Yard squares at you, a fat beef-eater of a police- 
man disguised miraculously as a Bastille. 

For a stretch you have the essential London; you 
have Charing Cross railway station, heart of the world, 
and the Embankment on the north side with its new 
hotels overshadowing its Georgian and Victorian archi- 
tecture, and mud and great warehouses and factories, 
chimneys, shot towers, advertisements on the south. 
The northward skyline grows more intricate and pleasing, 
and more and more does one thank God for Wren. Somer- 
set House is as picturesque as the civil war, one is reminded 
again of the original England, one feels in the fretted sky 
the quality of Restoration lace 

And in this reach, too, one first meets the seagulls and 
is reminded of the sea. Blackfriars one takes — just under 
these two bridges and just between them is the finest 
bridge moment in the world — and behold, soaring up, 
hanging in the sky over a rude tumult of warehouses, 
over a jostling competition of traders, irrelevantly beauti- 
ful and altogether remote, Saint Paul's! "Of course!" 
one says, "Saint Paul's!" It is the very figure of what- 
ever fineness the old Anglican culture achieved, detached, 
a more dignified and chastened Saint Peter's, colder, 
grayer, but still ornate; it has never been overthrown, 
never disavowed, only the tall warehouses and all the 
roar of traffic have forgotten it, every one has forgotten 
it; the steamships, the barges, go heedlessly by regardless 
of it, intricacies of telephone wires and poles cut blankly 
into its thin mysteries, and presently, when in a moment 
the traffic permits you and you look round for it, it has 
dissolved like a cloud into the grey blues of the London sky. 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 295 

And then the traditional and ostensible England falls 
from you altogether. The third movement begins, the 
last great movement in the London symphony, in which 
the trim scheme of the old order is altogether dwarfed 
and swallowed up. Comes London Bridge, and the 
great warehouses tower up about you, waving stupendous 
cranes, the gulls circle and scream in your ears, large ships 
lie among their lighters, and one is in the port of the 
world 

Huge vistas of dock open right and left of one, and 
here and there beyond and amidst it all are church towers, 
little patches of indescribably old-fashioned and worn-out 
houses, riverside tubs and the like, vestiges of townships 
that were long since torn to fragments and submerged in 
these new growths. And amidst it all no plan appears, no 
intention, no comprehensive desire. That is the very key 
to it all 

Finally, we tear into the great spaces of the future 
and the turbines fall to talking in unfamiliar tongues. Out 
to the open we go, to windy freedom and trackless ways. 
Light after light goes down. England and the Kingdom, 
Britain and the Empire, the old prides and the old devo- 
tions, glide abeam, astern, sink down upon the horizon, 
pass — pass. The river passes — London passes, England 
passes 

This is the note I have tried to emphasize 

It is a note of crumbling and confusion, of change and 
seemingly aimless swelling, of a bubbling up and medley of 
futile loves and sorrows. But through the confusion 
sounds another note. Through the confusion something 
drives, something that is at once human achievement and 
the most inhuman of all existing things 



296 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

But it is something we draw by pain and effort out 
of the heart of life, that we disentangle and make clear. 
.... This thing we make clear is the heart of life. It is 
the one enduring thing. Men and nations, epochs and 

civilization pass, each making its contribution 

It emerges from life with each year one lives and feels, and 
generation by generation and age by age. 

Illustrative Readings 

The most illuminating single work is W. D. Howells' 
London Films, published in 1905. 

Fiction 

A very great deal of contemporary fiction is specifically 
located in London; thus, for instance, Joseph Vance, 
Alice for Short, Somehow Good, It Never Can Happen 
Again, by William de Morgan; Fraternity, portions of 
The Country House, The Man of Property, and A Com- 
mentary, in the works of John Galsworthy; Simon the 
Jester, portions of Septimus, The Morals of Marcus 
Ordeyne, and so forth, from William J. Locke ; A Wanderer 
in London, London Lavender, Over Bemertons, Mr. Ingle- 
side, and others, from E. V. Lucas; Ann Veronica, Tono 
Bungay, The New Machiavelli, and Marriage, from H. G. 
Wells. 

Drama 

There is the same abundance of recent drama 
specifically located in London. This would include such 
as the following: Widowers' Houses, Lady Barbara, by 
Bernard Shaw; Gay Lord Quex, The Benefit of the Doubt, 
Mid-Channel, Letty, The Princess and the Butterfly, and 
Sweet Lavender, by Arthur Wing Pinero; The Crusaders, 



CONTEMPORARY LONDON 297 

The Liars, The Rogue's Comedy, The Case of Rebellious 
Susan, The Dancing Girl, by Henry Arther Jones; Lady 
Windermere's Fan, An Ideal Husband, by Oscar Wilde; 
and The Madras House, by Granville Barker. 



APPENDIX 



APPENDIX 

ILLUSTRATIVE NOVELS 

Addison, Steele, etc. 

The Spectator (1709-14). The material presented in the 
Spectator is too abundant to submit to indexing here. 
The nearest analogy in this list is Goldsmith's 
Citizen of the World, though in some respects it is a 
sort of expurgated form of Ward's The London 
Spy. 

Ainsworth, William H. 

The Constable of the Tower (1861). A story of the ambi- 
tious plottings of the Duke of Somerset and Sir 
Thomas Seymour on the accession of Edward VI, 

1549- 
Bishopsgate, Book I, chap. ii. 
Charing Cross, Book I, chap. xvi. 
Cheapside, Book II, chap. v. 
Chelsea Manor-House in Cheyne Walk, Book II, 

chap. x. 
Fleet, Street, Bridge, Prison, Book II, chap. v. 
London, City of, Book I, chap. ii. 
Ludgate, Book II, chap. v. 
St. Paul's, Old, Book II, chap. v. 
The Thames, Book I, chap. ii. 
Tower of London, Book I, chap. v. 
Tower Hill, Book I, chap, ii; Book III, chap, ix; 

Book IV, chap. vi. 
301 



302 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Westminster Abbey, Book II, chap. vi. 

Westminster Hall, Book II, chap. vii. 

Westminster Palace, Book I, chap. ii. 
Jack Sheppard (1839). A romance woven around the life 
of a notorious robber and housebreaker, with men- 
tion of the struggle between the Jacobites and 
Protestants in the opening years of the eighteenth 
century. 

Alsatia, Epoch III, chap. viii. 

Bedlam, Epoch III, chap. viii. 

Clerkenwell Bridewell, Epoch III, chap. iv. 

Execution at Tyburn, Epoch III, chap, xxxii. 

Highgate, Epoch II, chap. xi. 

Holborn, Epoch II, chap. xi. 

Hurricane of 1703, Epoch I, chaps, vi, vii. 

London Bridge, Epoch I, chap. vii. 

Mohocks, Epoch II, chap. xi. 

Newgate to Tyburn, Procession from, Epoch III, 
chap. xxxi. 

Newgate Ward, Epoch III, chap. iv. 

Old Bailey, Epoch II, chap. xvi. 

Old Mint, Epoch I, chap. ii. 

Old Newgate Prison, Epoch III, chap, ix (entire). 

Oxford Road, Epoch III, chap. i. 

St. Saviour's Church, Epoch I, chap. vi. 

Tyburn Gate, Epoch, III, chap. i. 

Gay, Hogarth, Thornhill, Dr. James, Epoch III, 

chap. xvi. 

The Tower of London (1840). The tragic story of Lady 

Jane Grey's hopeless conspiracy for the throne, and 

her execution by Queen Mary. London is pre- 



APPENDIX 303 

sented, and particularly the stronghold of the Tower, 
in the period of 1537 to 1554. 
Aldgate, Book II, chap. i. 
Baptist's Head Tavern (Creed Lane), Book I, 

chaps, ii, ix. 
Durham House (Ancient site of the Adelphi), 

Book I, chap. i. 
Eastcheap, Book II, chap. i. 
London Bridge, Book II, chap, xxix; Book I, 

chap. i. 
London, City of, Book I, chap, i; Book II, chap. i. 
Ludgate, Book I, chap. ix. 
St. Paul's, Old, Book I, chap. i. 
Thames, Book I, chap, i; Book II, chaps, xxvii, 

xxxii. 
Tower of London, Map, Book II; Book I, chaps. 

i, ii, ix, x, xiii, xvi; Book II, chaps, hi, iv, xxvii, 

xxix, xxx, xxxii i. 
Westminster Hall, Book II, chap. v. 

Old St. PauVs (1841). A story of the experiences of a 
London grocer and his family during the period of the 
last London plague and the Great Fire. The story 
with the exception of a few chapters is located entirely 
in the immediate neighborhood of St. Paul's Cathedral. 
The specific references are too numerous to tabulate 
in full. The following entire chapters are, however, 
of special interest: 

Fire, Progress of the, Book VI, chap. iii. 

Fire, The First Night of, Book VI, chap. ii. 

London (Old) from Old St. Paul's, Book II, chap. vi. 

Plague at Its Height, The, Book IV, chap. i. 



304 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Plague (How the Grocer Shut up His House), 
Book II, chap. xi. 

Plague (In What Manner the Grocer Victualled 
His House), Book II, chap. ii. 

Progress of the Pestilence, The, Book II, chap. i. 

St. Paul's (How St. Paul's Was Used as a Pest- 
house), Book III, chap. v. 

St. Paul's, The Burning of, Book VI, chap. vii. 

St. Paul's Walk, Book II, chap. vii. 

Besant, Walter, and Rice, James 

The Chaplain of the Fleet (1881). A story of lively inter- 
est, having for a background the London of 1780, 
with the famous jail of George Ill's reign. It is full 
of antiquarian lore about streets, houses, theaters, etc. 

Fleet Bridge, Part I, chaps, iv, vi; Part II, chap, 
xxi. 

Fleet Lane, Part I, chap. iv. 

Fleet Market, Part I, chaps, iv, v, x, xi, xii; Part II, 
chap. xxii. 

Fleet Prison, Part I, chap. vii. 

Fleet Prison, Rules and Liberties of, Part I, chap, 
vi; Part II, chaps, ix, xiv. 

Fleet Street, Part I, chap. xxi. 

Gray's Inn Gardens, Part I, chap. vi. 

London, Gity of, Part I, chaps, iv, viii. 

Ludgate, Part I, chap. iv. 

Ludgate Hill, Part I, chap. iv. 

Newgate Prison, Part I, chap. viii. 

Red Lion Street, Part II, chap. i. 

Strand, Part I, chap. viii. 



APPENDIX 3°5 

St. Giles's Church (Cripplegate), Part I, chap. viii. 

St. James's Park, Part I, chap. viii. 

St. Paul's, Part I, chap. viii. 

St. Paul's Coffee-house, Part I, chap. iv. 

Westminster Abbey, Part I, chap. viii. 

White Horse Inn, Part I, chap. iv. 

Besant, Sir Walter 

All Sorts and Conditions of Men (1882). The story deals 
with the philanthropic schemes of the heiress to a 
great East Side brewery, and presents vivid con- 
temporary pictures of the life of the neglected 
Whitechapel quarters. 

Fleet Street, chap. xvii. 

London, City of, chap, xxxvi. 

London Docks, chap. xxii. 

Minories, chap. xii. 

Piccadilly, chap. xvii. 

St. George's (Mile End Road), chap. iii. 

Stepney Churchyard, chap. v. 

Stepney Green, chaps, i, v, vii, viii, xvi, xxxviii. 

Stepney Limehouse, chaps, iii, xii. 

Trinity Almshouse, chaps, vii, xii. 

Victoria Park, chap. xvi. 

Wellclose Square, chaps, i, xxvii. 

West India Dock Road, chap. xii. 

Whitechapel Church, chap, xviii. 

Whitechapel Road, chaps, iv, vii. 

Dorothy Forsler (1884). The domestic history of the 
Forsters of Bamborough Castle during the Jacobite 
intrigue of 17 15. The tragic narrative of rebellion 



306 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

leads the reader at length up to London, into Georgian 
society, and into Newgate and the Tower. 

Cheapside, Vol. II, chap. xxii. 

Drury Lane, Vol. II, chap. iv. 

Drury Lane Theatre, Vol. II, chaps, iv, xi. 

Fleet Gate, Vol. II, chap. xxii. 

Fleet Market, Vol. II, chap. xxii. 

Fleet Prison, Vol. II, chap. xxii. 

Holborn, Vol. II, chap. xxii. 

Lincoln's Inn Fields, Vol. II, chaps, xii, xxii. 

Lords, House of, Vol. II, chap, xviii. 

Newgate, Vol. II, chaps, xiii, xvi, xxi, xxii. 

Newgate Street, Vol. II, chaps, xv, xxi. 

Snow Hill, Vol. II, chap. xxii. 

Somerset House, Vol. II, chap. xi. 

Spring Gardens, Vol. II, chap. xi. 

Strand, Vol. II, chap. xi. 

Street Riots, Vol. II, chap. xiii. 

Tower Hill, Vol. II, chap. xx. 

Tower of London, Vol. II, chaps, xv, xx. 

Westminster Abbey, Vol. II, chap. xi. 

Westminster Hall, Vol. II, chap, xviii. 

No Other Way (1901). A story revolving around a 
grotesque situation, which incidentally gives a fairly 
vivid picture of the conditions of debtors in the 
King's Bench and Newgate in 1750. 
Fleet Market, chap. xxiv. 

Grapes Tavern (Jermyn Street), chaps, viii, xxiii. 
Gray's Inn Cockpit, chaps, viii, xxi. 
Great Hermitage Street (White Dog Tavern), 
chaps, xvii, xix, xxv. 



APPENDIX 307 

Green Park, chap. vii. 

King's Bench, chaps, ii, iv, xxiv. 

King Street, chap. i. 

Long Acre, chap. ix. 

Marylebone Gardens, chap. ix. 

Newgate, chap. iii. 

St. James's Park, chaps, vi, ix. 

St. James's Square, chaps, vi, ix, xviii. 

Thames, The, chap. ix. 

Vauxhall, chap. ix. 

The Orange Girl (1899) is about an actress and a man 
twice freed by her from prison. The story deals much 
with police and higher courts, and imprisonment for 
debt and other charges. 

Black Jack, The, Book II, chap. v. 

Bow Street Office (trial at police court), Book II, 
chap. viii. 

Drury Lane Theatre, Book I, chap. v. 

Funeral of Wealthy Merchant, Book I, chap. vi. 

High Street, Holborn, Book II, chap. ii. 

King's Bench Prison, Book I, chap. x. 

Ludgate Hill, Book I, chap. v. 

Newgate Prison, Book II, chap. ix. 

Old Bailey, Book I, chap, v., Book II, chap. xii. 

Pillory, The, Book II, chap. xx. 

Sanctuary of Southwark, Book I, chap. ii. 

St. George's Fields, Book I, chap. ii. 

St. George's South London, Book I, chap. iv. 

St. Martin's Lane, Book II, chap. ii. 

St. Paul's, Book I, chap. v. 

Theft, Capital Punishment, Book II, chap. xxii. 



308 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

St. Katherine's by the Tower (1891). A novel whose only 
historical interest is in its portrayal of an English 
Jacobin Club in the year 1793. The scene is the 
eastern and poorer section of the city beyond the 
Tower. 

Bow Street, Part II, chap. xiii. 

Cheapside, Part II, chap. xi. 

Cock Tavern, The, Part II, chap. ii. 

Fleet Street, Part II, chap. ii. 

Jacobite Club (King's Head, Little Alice Street, 
Whitechapel), Part II, chaps, i, ix. 

London, East, Part II, chap. xi. 

Newgate Prison, Part II, chaps, xiii, xiv, xv, xviii, 
xix, xxiii, xxx. 

Pool, The, Part I, chap. vi. 

Rainbow, Part II, chap. ii. 

Session House (of the Old Bailey), Part II, chap, 
xvii. 

Somerset House, Part II, chap. ii. 

St. Katherine's, Church of, Part I, chap, vii; Part 
II, chap. iii. 

St. Katherine's, Precinct of, Part I, chaps, i, vi. 

St. Sepulchre's Church, Part II, chap. xxx. 

Thames, Part II, chap. xii. 

Tower, Part II, chap. vii. 

Tower Hill, Part II, chap. vii. 

Vauxhall, Part II, chap, xxviii. 

Whitechapel, Shoreditch, etc., Part II, chap. xi. 

Brooke, Henry 

The Fool of Quality (1776-70). A novel dealing with 
the history of Henry, Earl of Moreland, with disser- 



APPENDIX 309 

tations introduced on politics, morals, and social 
amelioration. 

Bethlehem Hospital, chap. xvii. 

Charing Cross, chap. vii. 

Cheapside, chap. vii. 

Fleet Prison, chap. xv. 

Fleet Street, chap. vii. 

Islington, chap. ix. 

London, City of, chap. xvii. 

Markham's Coffee-house, chap. vii. 

Newgate, chap. vii. 

Old Bailey, chap. viii. 

Smithfield, chap. xvii. 

St. Clement's Church, chap. xvii. 

St. James's Coffee-house, chap. xvii. 

St. James's Court, chap. xvii. 

Strand, chap. xvii. 

Temple Exchange Coffee-house, chap. xvii. 

Tower (Lion's Den), chap. xvii. 

Burney, Frances 

Cecilia (1782). A story comparable to the same author's 
Evelina — the experiences of an attractive and level- 
headed country girl, who comes up to London about 
the year 1775, into very definite contact with various 
types of London men and women. 

Almack's, chap. v. 

Brooks's Club, chap. vii. 

Grub Street, chap. Lx. 

Haymarket, chap. viii. 

Moorfields, chap. ix. 

Pantheon, chap. viii. 



310 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Tyburn, Malefactors on Way, to chap. ix. 
Vauxhall, chap. vi. 

Evelina (1778). Evelina is the daughter of a nobleman 
who refuses to recognize his child. She is brought up 
and educated by a country squire. The story tells 
of Evelina's visit to London in 1759 as a young and 
inexperienced girl, her marriage, and final reconcilia- 
tion with her contrite and remorseful parent. (Foot- 
notes refer to George Bell & Sons' edition, London, 
1898 with introduction and notes by Annie Raine 
Ellis.) 

Marylebone Gardens, Letter LII, and footnote, 
p. 242. 

Pantheon, Letter XXIII, and footnote, p. 104. 

Ranelagh, Letter XII, and footnote, p. 29. 

Sights of London, Letter XLIV. 

Vauxhall, Letter XL VI, and footnote, p. 199. 

Churchill, Winston 

Richard Carvel (1899). An autobiography written in 
contemporary language, covering the period of the 
American Revolution, and giving clear description of 
life in the Maryland of that time, and Georgian 
London, with its streets and haunts, its great houses, 
its coffee-houses, and theaters. 

Adelphi Terrace, chaps, xxx, xxxvi. 

Almack's, chap. xxxi. 

Bedford House, chap. xxxv. 

Brooks's Club (Ordinary), chaps, xxxi, xxxviii. 

Buckingham Palace, chap, xxiii. 

Butcher's Row, chap, xxiii. 



APPENDIX 311 

Castle Yard (Sponging House), chap. xxiv. 

Charing Cross, chap, xxiii. 

Don Saltero's Coffee-house and Museum (Chelsea), 

chap, xxxvi. 
Drury Lane, chap, xxxii. 
Drury Lane Playhouse, chap, xxxvi. 
Great Russell Street, chap. xxxv. 
Holland House, chaps, xxiii, xxxix. 
Hyde Park, chap, xxvii. 
Kensington Palace, chap, xxiii. 
London Bridge, chap. xxx. 
Pall Mall, chaps, xxiv, xxvi. 
Royal Exchange, chap, xxiii. 
Star and Garter Inn (Pall Mall), chap, xxiii. 
Strand, The, chap, xxiii. 
Strawberry Hill, chap. xxix. 
St. James's Street, chaps, xxvi, xl. 
Temple Bar, chap, xxiii. 
Temple Gardens, chap. xxx. 
Thames, The, chap. xxx. 
Vauxhall, chap. xl. 
Whitehall, chap. xxx. 
White Horse, chap, xxvii. 

Garrick, chap, xxxvi. 

Dr. Johnson, chap, xxxvi. 

Horace Walpole, chaps, xxii, xxvi, xxix. 



Defoe, Daniel 

Journal of the Plague Year (1722). A powerful narrative 
of facts concerning conditions in London during the 
plague year of 1665. (References are to the Sir 



312 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Walter Scott edition of Defoe's works. D. A. 
Talboys, printer, Oxford, 1840.) 

Aldgate, p. 170. 

Aldgate Churchyard, pp. 59-65. 

Aldersgate Street, pp. 155-56. 

Bishopsgate Churchyard, p. 26. 

Bow, The, p. 126. 

Butcher's Row, pp. 77-79. 

Holborn, p. 20. 

Old Street, p. 172. 

Spittlefields, p. 79. 

Still-yard Stairs, p. 158. 

Streets of London, pp. iS, 77-78, 89, 90, 163-65. 

St. Giles's Parish, p. 3. 

Thames, The, pp. 105, 112. 

Westminster, p. 173. 

Whitechapel, Broad Street, pp. 8, 98-99. 

Dekker, Thomas 

Guls Hom-booke (1609). A bit of contemporary satire on 
the ways of the young gallant in London. It belongs 
in the same category as Ned Ward's The London Spy 
of the early eighteenth century, and Pierce Egan's 
Life in London of the early nineteenth century. 
The chief points are discussed each by itself in the 
separate chapters. 

Dress and Tailors, chaps, i, ii. 

Powles-walkes, chap. iv. 

The City Streets at Night, chap. viii. 

The Ordinary (or Restaurant), chap. v. 

The Playhouse, chap. vi. 

The Tavern, chap. vii. 



APPENDIX 313 

Dickens, Charles 

Bleak House (1852-53). One of the Dickens stones 
which lays greatest stress on the intricacy of the legal 
machinery in the English courts of the first half of the 
nineteenth century. 

Chancery, The, chap. i. 

Chancery Lane, chap, xxxix. 

Cook's Court, chap. ix. 

Cursitor Street, chap. ix. 

Lincoln's Inn, chap, xxxix. 

Lincoln's Inn Fields, chap. ix. 

Lincoln's Inn Halls, chap. i. 

David Copperfield (1849-50). The story (autobiographical 
to a considerable degree) of David Copperfield in 
London in the warehouse of Murdstone & Grinby, 
in the school at Canterbury, and later in the city as 
lawyer's clerk, reporter, and successful author. 
Buckingham Street, Adelphi, chap, xxiii. 
Covent Garden Theatre (Julius Caesar and Panto- 
mime), chap. xix. 
Doctors' Commons, chap, xxiii. 
Fleet Street, Adelphi, chap. xi. 
Golden Cross and Charing Cross, chaps, xix, xl. 
Golden Square, chap. 1. 
Gray's Inn Coffee-house, chap. lix. 
River Bank (Blackfriars to Westminster), chap, xlvii. 
St. Martins, Drury Lane, and Covent Garden, 
chap. xi. 
Great Expectations (1860-61). A story of lowest London 
life along the Thames from the city to the sea. 
Bartholomew Close, chap. xx. 



314 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Barnardo's Inn, chap. xxi. 
Little Britain, chap. xx. 
Newgate Prison, chaps, xx, xxxii. 
Smithfield, chap. xx. 
Temple, chap, xlvii. 
Temple Stairs, chap, xlvii. 
Thames, chap. liv. 

Little Dorrit (1855-57). Account of the changes of for- 
tune of the Dorrit family, the father of whom is 
imprisoned for debt and subsequently released from 
the Marshalsea, and of Mr. Merdle, an operator in 
high finance. 

Adelphi, Book II, chap. ix. 

Bleeding Heart Yard, Book II, chap. ix. 

Covent Garden, Book I, chap. xiv. 

Ludgate Hill, London from, Book I, chap. iii. 

Marshalsea Prison, Book I, chaps, vi, viii, ix. 

Smithfield to St. Paul's, Book I, chap. xiii. 

St. Bartholomew's, Book I, chap. xiii. 

St. Paul's to the River, Book I, chap. iii. 

Nicholas Nickleby (1838-39). The story of Nicholas 
Nickleby, his sister, and their mother, and their 
experiences as people of small estate in the face of 
not overwhelming adversity. 

Cadogan Place and Sloane St., chap. xxi. 

Cavendish Square, chap. x. 

Golden Square, chaps, ii, xiv. 

Manchester Buildings, chap. xvi. 

Snow Hill, chap. xiv. 

Thames Street (Residence of Mrs Nickleby and 
Kate), chap. xi. 



APPENDIX 315 

Oliver Twist (1837-38). The story of an English boy who 
runs away to London, falls into the hands of pro- 
fessional criminals, and in their surroundings sees the 
darkest side of London slum life. His experience 
early and late in the book among people of means and 
morals furnishes a somewhat perfunctory contrast 
to his more rigorous experiences among the criminal 
classes. 

Approach from East to Smithfield Market, chap, 
xxi. 

Entrance to Town, chap. viii. 

The Green — Clerkenwell, chap. x. 

Jacob's Island, chap. 1. 

Saffron Hill, chap. xxv. 

A Tale of Two Cities (1859). One of Dickens' two 
historical stories. This like the other, Barnaby 
Rudge, emphasizes the developing spirit of democ- 
racy during the closing quarter of the eighteenth 
century. The scenes are laid in London and Paris 
about the time of the Reign of Terror. 

Bailey, The Old, Book II, chap. i. 

Fleet Street, Book II, chap. vi. 

Soho Square, Book II, chap. xiv. 

Doyle, Conan 

Rodney Stone (1896). A novel of incident and action 
in the years 1812-16, dealing largely with the bruisers 
of the prize-ring. 

Covent Garden, chap. ix. 

Haymarket, chap. ix. 

Jermyn Street, chap. ix. 



316 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Lloyd's Coffee-house, chap. ix. 

London (general description), chap. viii. 

London, City, chap. ix. 

London, West End, chap. ix. 

Stephen's Inn (Bond Street), chap. ix. 

"Wagon and Horse's" Sporting House, chaps. 

x, xi. 
Watier's, chap. ix. 
Westminster Bridge, chap. xiv. 



Beau Brummel, chap. ix. 
Sheridan, chap. ix. 



Egan, Pierce 

Real Life in London; or, The Rambles and Adventures of 
Bob Tallyho, Esq., and His Cousin, the Hon. Tom 
Dashall, through the Metropolis; Exhibiting a Living 
Picture of Fashionable Characters, Manners and 
Amusements in High and Low Life. The first two 
volumes (182 1) were followed by a second work in 
1828, A Finish to the Adventures of Tom, Jerry and 
Logic in Their Pursuits through Life in and out of 
London. 

This is a loosely connected series of sketches 
well described in the title, and interesting as a fore- 
runner of the Pickwick Papers. The definite allu- 
sions to London locations are too numerous to be 
listed in these pages. References to the chief archi- 
tectural works are accompanied by specific descrip- 
tions after the fashion of Baedeker. For the reader 
who wishes specific material, the running descriptions 



APPENDIX 317 

of each chapter which appear in the table of con- 
tents furnish a fairly short cut to the passages of 
most interest. 

Fielding, Henry 

Amelia (1751). In Amelia Fielding draws a satirical 
picture of society in its pleasures and crimes, and, 
through the conditions of life in Newgate and the 
poorer quarters of London, presents an attack on the 
ill-working of certain of the English laws. Fielding's 
own position as magistrate enabled him to give 
accurate details. Amelia is said to be a study of his 
first wife. 

Bridewell Prison, Vol. I, Book I, chaps, iii, iv, v. 

Gray's Inn Lane, Vol. II, Book VIII, chaps, i, v. 

Haymarket Theatre, Vol. II, Book X, chap. ii. 

Hyde Park, Vol. I, Book I, chap. v. 

King's Arms Tavern, Vol. II, Book X, chap. v. 

Newgate, Vol. II, Book XII, chap. v. 

Ranelagh, Vol. II, Book VII, chap. vii. 

St. James's Park, Vol. I, Book IV, chap, vii; 
Book V, chap. ix. 

Vauxhall, Vol. II, Book IX, chap. ix. 

Tom Jones (1749). A novel of manners presenting "the 
complete and unexpurgated history of a young man 
and his doings, good and bad," and all phases of 
life in the country and in town in the year 1745. 

Bond Street, Vol. II, Book XIII, chap. v. 

Gatehouse, Vol. II, Book XVIII, chap. v. 

Gray's Inn Lane, Vol. II, Book XIII, chap. ii. 

Grosvenor Square, Vol. II, Book XIII, chap. ii. 



318 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Haymarket, Vol. II, Book XIII, chap. v. 

Holborn, Vol. II, Book XIII, chap. ii. 

Old Bailey, Vol. II, Book XVIII, chap. v. 

Playhouse, A (excellent description of a per- 
formance of Hamlet by Garrick), Vol. II, Book 
XVI, chap. v. 

Piccadilly, Vol. II, Book XVI, chap. ii. 

Jonathan Wild (1743). An ironic exposition of the nefari- 
ous character of a London thief hanged at Tyburn 
in 1725. 

Covent Garden Eating House, Book II, chap. ix. 

Drury Lane Theatre, Book III, chap. xi. 

Newgate, Book III, chap, iv; Book IV, chaps, ii, 
iii. 

Old Bailey, Book II, chap. v. 

St. James's, Book II, chap. xii. 

Tyburn, Book IV, chap. xiv. 

Fielding, Sarah 

Adventures of David Simple in Search of a Faithful Friend 
(1744). A moralizing novel inspired by Richardson's 
Pamela, in which a virtuous young man sets out in 
a quest which takes him to various parts of London 
in search of an ideal friend. 

Covent Garden, Vol. I, Book I, chaps, ix, x, xi; 

Vol. II, Book III, chap. vi. 
Pall Mall (assemblies, taverns, etc.), Vol. I, Book 

II, chaps, i, ii, iii. 
Royal Exchange, Vol. I, Book I, chap. iv. 
St. James's Street, Vol. II, Book III, chap. vi. 
Thames, The, Vol. II, Book IV, chap. iii. 



APPENDIX 319 

Goldsmith, Oliver 

The Citizen of the World (1756), or Letters from a Chinese 

Philosopher residing in London to his friends in the 

East. 

Coronation of George III, Preparation for, Letter 

CV. 

Drury Lane and Covent Garden (without naming), 

Letter LXXIX. 
Election, Letter XCIII. 
St. Paul's Cathedral, Letter XLI. 
Theater, Description of, Letter XXI. 
Vauxhall, Letter LXXI. 
Westminster Abbey, Letter XIII. 
Westminster Hall and Courts of Justice, Letter 

XCVIII. 

James, G. P. R. 

Agincourt (1844). The story of a young knight in the 
service of Henry V at London and abroad during the 
early years of his reign, from 1413 to 1415. 

"Acorn, The" (An Inn in the Strand), chaps, x, xiii. 

Charing Cross, chap. xiii. 

London, City of (from the Thames), chap. vii. 

St. James's Hospital, chaps, vii, viii. 

Temple, The Old, chap. xiv. 

Westminster Abbey, chap. xi. 

Westminster Palace, chap. viii. 

Darnley (1829). The story of the life of a young lord in 
the reign of Henry VIII. Cardinal Wolsey and other 
historic characters figure in the narrative. 
London Bridge, chap. xiv. 



320 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Pageant and Masque Ball in the Court of Henry 

VIII, chap. xx. 
Westminster, From London to, chap. xiv. 
York Place (afterward Whitehall), chap, xxiii. 

Kingsley, Charles 

Alton Locke (1849). The story deals largely with the 
subject of sweatshops and the Chartist agitation. 
It also comments at length on the attitude of the 
dissenting clergy as well as that of the Church of 
England. The time is about the middle of the 
nineteenth century. 

Chartist Uprising, The, chap. x. 

Clare Market to St. Giles (description of squalor 

and the tenements), chap. viii. 
Dulwich Gallery, chap. vi. 

Riot among Laborers Outside of London, chap, 
xxviii. 

Lytton, Edward Bulwer 

Devereux (1829). The description of the life of a rich 
young man, heir to a title, who spends more or less 
time in London (about 1704), amusing himself as 
men of his class and generation could. The historical 
characters introduced are not closely woven with the 
main plot. 

Kit-cat Club, Book II, chap. vi. 

Ladies Patches, Book II, chap. ii. 

Mohawks, Book II, chaps, vii, xi. 

New Exchange Shops, Book II, chap. i. 

Puppet Show, Book II, chap. i. 



APPENDIX 321 



Saltero, Don, Book II, chap. vi. 
Will's Coffee-house, Book II, chap. iii. 



Addison, Steele, Spectator, Book II, chap. iii. 

Cibber, Book II, chap. ii. 

Cromwell, Richard, Book III, chap. iv. 

"Beau" Fielding, Book II, chap. i. 

Henry St. John (Lord Bolingbroke), Book I, chap. 

v., Book II, chaps, vii, x; Book IV, chaps, ii, 

iii; Book VI, chap. vi. 
Kneller, Sir Godfrey, Book II, chap. viii. 
Dr. Swift, Book II, chap. viii. 



The Last of the Barons (1843). A story of the relations of 
Warwick, the kingmaker, with Edward IV and 
Henry VI in about 1467. 
Apprentices, Book II, chap. i. 
Charing Cross and Vicinity, Book I, chap. i. 
Smithfield, Tournament in, Book IV, chap. vii. 
Strand, Book II, chap. i. 

Tower of London, Book II, chaps, ii, iii; Book III, 
chap. v. 

Richardson, Samuel 

Sir Charles Grandison, Bart. (1753). A novel in the form 
of letters, not specific in references, but giving an 
excellent conception of fashionable life in London 
in the middle of the eighteenth century. The hero 
is possessed of every possible virtue; the heroine is 
quite without peers for beauty, intelligence, and 



322 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

generally admirable qualities. The fortunes of the 
pair are a background for a philosophic representation 
of life. 

Scott, Sir Walter 

Kenilworth (182 1). The story deals with court life and the 
fortunes of the rival lords Essex and Leicester, under 
Queen Elizabeth in 1575. 

The Thames, chaps, xv, xvii. 

The Fortunes of Nigel (1822). A story of a young Scottish 
nobleman's experiences in London and at the Court 
of James I in 1604. 

Alsatia, Book I, chap. xvi. 

Apprentices, Book I, chaps, i, ii. 

Charing Cross, Book I, chap. v. 

Fleet Street, Book I, chap. i. 

Fleet Street (a barber shop in), Book II, chap. vi. 

Fortune Theatre, Book I, chap. xii. 

Lane (a typical one near Paul's Wharf), Book I, 
chap. iii. 

Ordinary, The (a fashionable French eating house), 
Book I, chaps, xi, xii. 

Strand, The, Book I, chap. v. 

St. James's Park, Book I, chap. xv. 

Temple, The, Book I, chap. xvi. 

Temple Bar, Book I, chap. v. 

Temple Bar (a typical shop near), Book I, chap. i. 

Thames, The, Book I, chap. ix. 

Tower, The, Book II, chaps, xii, xiii. 

Whitefriars, Book I, chaps, xvi, xvii. 

Whitehall, Book I, chap. v. 



APPENDIX 323 

Peveril of the Peak (1823) is chiefly a story of the struggle 
in England between Papists and Puritans. The 
novel is full of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, 
and King Charles II. 

King's Benches at Westminster, Court of (trial at), 
Book III, chap. vi. 

Justice of the Peace (trial before), Book II, chap. xv. 

Mall, The, Book II, chap. xiii. 

Newgate Prison, Life in, Book II, chaps, xvi, xvii, 
xviii. 

Savoy, The, Book II, chap. xiii. 

Somerset House, Book II, chap. xiii. 

Tower of London, Book III, chap. i. 

Tower of London (White Tower), Book III, chap. v. 

Whitehall, Palace of, Book II, chap. xiii. 

The Pirate (182 1). A story located in the Orkney Islands 
in the year 1724-25, and involving among other 
characters that of Claud Halcro — a kind of belated 
minstrel whose chief glory in life was drawn from the 
fact that at one period in London he had associated 
with Dryden and his fellows at the "Wits' " Coffee- 
house, his own residence being near by on Russell 
Street, Co vent Garden. This character, who appears 
hither and yon, is developed more fully than anywhere 
else in chap. xii. 

Smith, Horace 

Brambletye House (1826). A valuable picture of life in 
the period of the Great Civil War, showing the 
contrast between the courts of the Protector and 
Charles II under the Restoration, and London in the 



324 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Plague and Fire year. Authentic ballads and songs 
of the time are profusely introduced. 

Aldersgate Street, Vol. Ill, chap. ii. 

Aldgate Churchyard, Vol. Ill, chap. ii. 

Cheapside, Vol. Ill, chap. ii. 

Fleet Street, Vol. Ill, chap. vii. 

Hampton Court (Cromwell's reign), Vol. I, chap. vi. 

Hampton Court (Charles II's reign), Vol. II, 
chap. v. 

London Bridge, Vol. Ill, chap. vi. 

London, City of, Vol. Ill, chaps, ii, vi. 

Mall, The, Vol. II, chap. v. 

Mulberry Gardens, Vol. I, chap. vii. 

St. James's Park, Vol. II, chap, iii; Vol. Ill, 
chap. vi. 

St. Paul's Cathedral, Vol. Ill, chaps, vi, vii. 

Spring Gardens, Vol. I, chap, vii; Vol. Ill, chap. vi. 

Stepney, Vol. Ill, chap. ii. 

Streets (Plague year), Vol. Ill, chap. ii. 

Temple, The, Vol. Ill, chap. vii. 

Temple Bar, Vol. Ill, chaps, vi, vii. 

Thames, Vol. Ill, chap. vi. 

Tower, Vol. Ill, chap. ix. 

Westminster, Vol. Ill, chap. vii. 

Whitehall, Vol. I, chap, vii; Vol. Ill, chaps, v, vii. 



Cromwell, Vol. I, chap. vi. 
Lovelace, Richard, Vol. I, chap. vii. 
Marvel, Andrew, Vol. I, chap. vi. 
Milton, Vol. I, chap, vi; Vol. Ill, chap. v. 
Walton, Izaak, Vol. II, chap. v. 



APPENDIX 325 

Smollett, Tobias 

Ferdinand, Count Fathom (1753). The life of a scamp, 
who, in spite of his ready wit met such misfortune in 
his adventures that he later in life reformed. Scenes 
in and out of London. 
The Rage of Gaming, chap. i. 

Humphrey Clinker (1771). The travels and observations 
of a Welsh family in England and Wales, presenting 
in letter form a running comment on the customs and 
institutions of the time. 

Assembly, Mrs. Cornelys' (a typical gathering 
of beaux and wits): "Lydia Melford to Miss 
Laetitia Willis," London, May 31. 

British Museum: "Matt. Bramble to Dr. Lewis," 
London, June 2. 

Clerkenwell Prison: "J. Melford to Miss Laetitia 
Willis," London, June 11. 

Covent Garden: "M. Bramble to Dr. Lewis," 
Bath, April 23. 

Grub Street Assembly, A: "J. Melford to Sir 
Watkin Phillips," London, June 10. 

London, General Aspects: "M. Bramble to Dr. 
Lewis," London, May 22; "Winifred Jenkins to 
Mrs. Mary Jones," London, June 3; Markets, 
Water, Drainage, etc.: "M. Bramble to Dr. 
Lewis," London, June 8; London Streets: 
"Lydia Melford to Miss Laetitia Willis," 
London, May 31. London Tower: "Winifred 
Jenkins to Mrs. Mary Jones," London, June 3. 

Long Acre: "J. Melford to Sir Watkin Phillips," 
London, June 10. 



326 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Ranelagh: "M. Bramble to Dr. Lewis," London, 

May 22; "Lydia Melford to Miss Laetitia 

Willis," London, May 31. 
Sadler's Wells: "Winifred Jenkins to Mrs. Mary 

Jones," London, June 3. 
St. James's Court: "J. Melford to Sir Watkin 

Phillips, Bart." London, June 2. 
Thames: "Lydia Melford to Miss Laetitia Willis," 

London, May 31. 
Vauxhall: "M. Bramble to Dr. Lewis," London, 

May 22; "Lydia Melford to Miss Laetitia 

Willis," London, May 31. 

Thackeray, William Makepeace 
Barry Lyndon (1856). The life and adventures of a 
dashing young Irish nobleman, who enlists in the 
Seven Years' War, and makes and loses a great name 
for himself in the world of fashion between the years 
1746 and 1811. 

Assembly, An, at Mrs. Comely s' (Carlisle House), 
chap. xvii. 

Cocoa-tree, chap. xvii. 

Fleet Prison, chap. xix. 

Gray's Inn, chap. xix. 

Mall, The, chap, xviii. 

Newmarket, chap. xvii. 

Ranelagh, chaps, xii, xviii. 

St. James's Church, chap, xviii. 

White's Chocolate House, chap. xvi. 

Boswell, chap. i. 
Goldsmith, chap. i. 
Dr. Johnson, chap. i. 



APPENDIX 327 

Henry Esmond (1852). The supposedly illegitimate child 
of Marquis Esmond. He is full of gratitude for the 
care he receives from his father's heir. Therefore, 
when at Lord Esmond's death he learns that he 
himself is the true Marquis, he destroys the proofs 
and confession in order that the widow and the chil- 
dren may continue the succession. He serves in 
wars against France in 1704-S. Time, end of King 
William's reign, Queen Anne's, and the beginning of 
George I's. 

Gray's Inn, Book I, chap. xiv. 

Greyhound Tavern in Charing Cross, Book I, chaps, 
x, xiv. 

Leicester Fields (Dueling, Standard Tavern), Book 
I, chap. xiv. 

Newgate Prison, Book II, chaps, i, ii. 

River (London Bridge), Book I, chap. hi. 

River (to Chelsea), Book II, chap. hi. 

Theatre (Duke's Play House), Book I, chap. xiv. 

Trial of Peers for Dueling, Book II, chap. i. 

The "Rose," Book II, chap. v. 

Addison, Book II, chap. v. 

Addison and Steele, Book II, chap. xi. 

Richard Steele, Book I, chap, vi; Book II, chaps, 
ii, v, x, xv. 

Swift, Dean, Book III, chap. ii. 

"Wits of 1712" (Swift), Book III, chap. v. 
Pendennis (1849-50). Story of the experiences of young 
Pendennis as he learns life through his experiences 
first in and out of the city. 

Alsatia, chap. xlii. 

Drawing Room, A London, chap, xxxvii. 



328 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

Fielding's Head, The Back Kitchen of, chap. xxx. 

Fleet Prison, chap. xxxi. 

Lamb Court (Pendennis' first day in London and 

his quarters — Lamb Court), chap, xxviii. 
Major Pendennis' Club, chap. i. 
Major Pendennis — His Program of Life, chap. ix. 
Paternoster Row, chap. xxxi. 
Temple, The Accommodations in the, chap. xxix. 
Temple Garden, chap. xlix. 
Vauxhall, chap. xlvi. 

The Virginians (1858-59). The story takes up the history 
of Henry Esmond's two grandsons and presents, in 
memoir form, their adventures in Virginia and in the 
London of Dr. Johnson, Garrick, Richardson, and 
other notable persons, The period covered is from 
1756 to 1783. 

Bond Street, Vol. I, chap. xii. 

Cavendish Square, Vol. I, chap, xxxvi. 

Covent Garden, Vol. I, chap, xxxvi; Vol. II, chap, 
xix. 

Covent Garden Theatre, Vol. II, chap. xi. 

Cursitor Street Sponging-house, Vol. I, chap, xlvii. 

Drury Lane Theatre, Vol. II, chaps, xii, xxxii. 

Fleet Street, Vol. II, chap. i. 

Kensington, Vol. II, chap. viii. 

Kensington Palace, Vol. II, chap. x. 

Lambeth, Vol. II, chap, xxxii. 

Leicester Fields, Vol. I, chap, xxxvi. 

London, City of, Vol. I, chap, i; Vol. II, chap. xxi. 

Marylebone Gardens and Fields, Vol. I, chap, 
xxxvi. 



APPENDIX 329 

Montagu House (Don Saltero's Museum), Vol. I, 

chap, xxxvi; Vol. II, chap. xxii. 
Pall Mall, Vol. II, chap. xii. 
Ranelagh, Vol. II, chap. v. 
St. James's Palace, Vol. I, chap. xl. 
Vauxhall, Vol. I, chap. xl. 
White's Chocolate House, Vol. I, chaps, xl, xliv; 

Vol. II, chap. xii. 



Dr. Johnson, Vol. I, chap, xxv; Vol. II, chaps, xii, 

xxxi. 
Richardson, Vol. I, chap. xxv. 
Lord Chesterfield, Vol. I, chap. xxv. 
Garrick, Vol. II, chaps, xii, xxxii. 
Reynolds, Vol. II, chap. xxxi. 



Trollope, Anthony 

The Way We Live Now (1875). A novel depicting many 
phases of English life, in which the contrasting char- 
acters are a ruined patrician family and a rascally 
millionaire. The book deals with character and inci- 
dent rather than place. 

Bear Garden Club, chaps, iii, x. 

Bruton Street, chap. xiii. 

Covent Garden, chap. lxiv. 

Westminster Place, chap. lxiv. 

The Prime Minister (1S76). The story deals with the 
appointment of a prime minister, his commonplace 
career, his indirect influence in elections near his 
country seat, his wife's intriguing for the election 
of her favorites, and his resignation. 



330 LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 

There are no references to places in London, but 
there is much about meetings of Parliament, bank- 
ruptcy bills, and county suffrage bills. 

Ward, Edward 

The London-Spy, Compleat in Eighteen Parts (1703). 
This is a rich mine of material closely comparable to 
Dekker's GuVs Hom-booke and Pierce Egan's Life 
in London, and dealing like them with the man- 
about-town on his hunt for pleasure in all sorts of 
respectable and disreputable parts of town. 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Adams, Arthur H., vii 

Addison, Joseph, i, 127, 133, 135, 
136, 138, 157, 162, 184, 198, 
245; writings, 122, 127, 128. 
See also The Spectator 

Adelphi, The, 155-57, 230 
— Ainsworth, Tower of London, 
Book I, chap, i; Dickens, 
David Cop per field, chaps, xi, 
xxxii; Little Dorr it, Book II, 
chap, ix 

Adelphi Terrace, 175, 230; illus- 
tration, 156 

— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 
chaps, xxx, xxxvi 

Admiralty Offices, 225 

Ainsworth, W. H., Novels of, 53, 
64, 92, 152 

Aldersgate, 5, 67 

Aldersgate Street, 246 

■ — Smith, Bramblclyc House, Vol. 
Ill, chap, ii 

Aldgate, 5, 17, 34 

— Ainsworth, Tower of London, 
Book II, chap, i 

Almack's Club (Brooks's Club), 
163-65, 176, 189, 201 

— Burney's, Cecilia, chap, v; 
Churchill, Richard Carvel, 
chap, xxxi 

Alsatia, 52, 53, 228 

— Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard, 
Ep. Ill, chap, viii; Scott, 
Fortunes of Nigel, Book I, 
chap, xvi; Thackeray, Pciidcu- 
nis, chap, xlii; Shadwell, 
Squire of Alsatia, passim 

Amen (Corner and Court), 279 



Apprentices, n, 30, ^^, 51, 52, 
172,174, 183 n, 185; illustra- 
tion, 184 

— Bulwer Lytton, Last of the 
Barons, Book II, chap, i; 
Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, Book 
I, chaps, i, ii 

Artillery Walk, 67, 88 

Assemblies, Appendix 

— Smollett, Humphrey Clinker, 
Letter of May 31; Thackeray, 
Barry Lyndon, chap, xvii 

Bagnigge Wells, 173, 174 
Bank of England, 284, 292 
Bartholomew's Close, Appendix 
— Dickens, Great Expectations, 

chap, xx . 
Beauclerk, Topham, 159, 167, 

178 
Beaumont and Fletcher, Plays 

of, 64, 99, 116 
Bedford Coffee House, 177 
Bedford Place and Square, 281 
Bedlam, Appendix 
■ — -Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard, 

Ep. Ill, chap, viii; Brooke, 

Fool of Quality, chap, xvii 
Bells, n, 32, 57 
Bennett, Arnold, 251, 270 
Besant, Sir Walter, vii, 33, 63, 

112, 121, 151, 152, 191, 218, 

268, 270 
Bethlehem Hospital. See Bedlam 
Bibliographical data, vii, ^3, 63, 

64, 91, 92, 122, 123, 151, 152, 

190, 191, 217, 21S, 247, 248, 

296 



333 



334 



LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 



Birrcll, Augustine, 222 

Bishopsgate, 5, 34 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 

Tower, Book I, chap, ii 
Bishopsgate Street, 82, 280 
Blackfriars, 5, 284,285 
Blackfriars Bridge, illustration, 

249 
Blackheath, 81 
Bloomsbury, 263, 281 

Bond Street, 268 

— Fielding, Tom Jones, Vol. II, 
Book XIII, chap, v; Thack- 
eray, Virginians, Vol. I, chap, 
xii. 

Boswell, James, 150 
Bow Street Police Court, 221 
— Besant, Orange Girl, Book II, 
chap, viii; St. Katherine's by 
the Tower, Book II, chap, xiii 

Bread Street, 10, 67, 280 

Bridewell Prison, Appendix 
—Fielding, Amelia, Vol. I, Book 
I, chaps, iii, iv, v 

Bridges, 6, 7, 153, 216, 228, 231, 
285. Sec also London Bridge 

British Museum, 163, 262 

— Smollett, Humphrey Clinker, 

Letter of June n 
Brooke, Henry, 152 

Brooks's Club. See Almack's 

Club 
Browning, Robert, Poems of, 76, 

92 

Brummel, Beau, 199, 200, 201 

Buckingham Palace, 252 
— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 
chap, xxiii 

Bunyan, Pilgrim's Progress, 124 

Burke, Edmund, 154, 159, 164, 
178 



Burney, Frances (Madame D'- 
Arblay), 169, 190, 191, 196 

Bus-drivers, 288, 289 

Butler, Samuel, Poems of, no, 
122 

Button's Coffee House, 135, 136 

Byron, Lord, 194, 195-97, 199- 
202, 217; writings, 196 

Carlyle, 16, 239, 264, 266; writ- 
ings, 91, 247, 259, 264, 266, 270 

Chancer)', Court of, 235 

— Dickens, Bleak House, chap. 1 

Chancery Lane, 188 

— Dickens, Bleak House, chap, 
xxxix 

Charing Cross, 6, 10, 34, 100. 
113, 120, 153, 185, 194, 202, 
231, 263, 294; illustration, 57 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book I, chap, xvi; 
Brooke, Fool of Quality, chap, 
vii; Churchill, Richard Carvel, 
chap, xxiii; Dickens, David 
Coppcrjield, chaps, xix, xl; 
G. P. R. James, Agincourt, 
chap, xiii; Bulwer Lytton, 
Last of the Barons, Book I, 
chap, i; Scott, Fortunes of 
Nigel, Book I, chap, v 

Charterhouse School (Merchant 
Taylor's School), 210, 230, 241, 
245, 246; illustrations, 245 

Chartist Uprising, The, 260 

— Kingsley, Alton Locke, chap, x 

Chaucer, 15-27, 2,^', writings, 13, 
18, 19, 21-25, 2 8, 29 

Cheapside, 7-9, 50, 51, 82, 280; 
illustrations, 32, 56, 64 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book II, chap, v; 
Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 
II, chap, xxii; St. Katherine's 
by the Tower, Part. II, chap. 



INDEX 



335 



xi; Brooke, Fool of Quality, 
chap, vii; Smith, Bramblctye 
House, Vol. Ill, chap. ii. 

Cheapside Cross, 9 ; illustrations' 
56, 64 

Chelsea, 264-267, 285 

Chesterfield, Lord (Philip Dor- 
mer), 157, 158, 160-62, 184; 
letters, 161, 162, 190 

Chesterton, G. K., 219 

Cheyne Walk, 266, 293; illus- 
tration, 264 

— i\.insworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book II, chap, x; 
Churchill, Richard Curve!, 
chap, xxxvi 

Child's Coffee House, 134 
Chivalry, 18-21 

Christ's Hospital, 205-10; il- 
lustration, 208 
Church, The, 12, 21-25, 35, 3 6 > 

37, 73, 79 
Cibber, Colley, 136, 151, 152 
Clement's Inn, 235 
Clerkenwell Bridewell, 1S1 
Clubs, 163-65, 176-78, 203, 252- 

54. See also Almack's, White's, 

et al 
— Thackeray, Pendennis, chap. 1 
Cocoa-Tree Coffee House, 134 
— Thackeray, Barry Lyndon, 

chap, xvii 
Coffee Houses, 2, 130-37, 177, 

194, 203; illustrations, 136 
— Besant and Rice, Chaplain of 

the Fleet, Part I, chap, iv; 

Brooke, Fool of Quality, chaps. 

vii, xvii 
Coleridge, S. T., 193, 205, 207, 

208, 209 
Collier, Jeremy, 117, 122 
Collins, Wilkie, 238 



Congreve, William, Writings of, 

117, 140, 150, iS3 
Conrad, Joseph, 3 

Coronations, 83 

— -Goldsmith, Citizen of the 

World, Letter CV 
Courts of Law, 2, 31, 22S, 235 
Covent Garden, 92, 185, 194, 

230, 243 

— Dickens, David Co p per f eld, 
chap, xi; Little Dorrit, Book 
I, chap, xiv; Doyle, Rodney 
Stone, chap, ix; Sarah Field- 
ing, David Simple, Vol. I,' Book 
I, chaps, ix, x, xi; Vol. II, 
Book III, chap, vi; Gold : 
smith, Citizen of the World, 
Letter LXXIX; Smollett, 
Humphrey Clinker, Letter of 
April 23;' Thackeray, Virgin- 
ians, Vol. II, chap, xi; Trol- 
lope, Way We Live Noiv, chap, 
lxiv 

Covent Garden Theatre, 116, 
177, 212 

Cripplegate, 5, 273 

Cromwell, Oliver, 94, 113, 114 

Cunningham; Peter, vii 

Davenant, Sir William, Poems 
of, 80, 117 

Defoe, Daniel, History of the 
Plague, 92, 104 

Dekker, Thomas, Guls Home- 
booke, 44, 48, 49, °3i Shoe- 
maker's Holiday, 52 

Democracy, 14, 20, 27, 28, 129, 
130, 158-60, 252 

De Morgan, William, 251, 296 

De Quincey, Thomas, 192, 217 

Dickens, Charles, 1, 16, 196, 197, 
220, 261; writings, 191, 220, 
223, 225-32, 234-36, 247, 248, 
256, 258 



;36 



LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 



Dobson, Austin, Writings of, 
190 

Doctor's Commons, 227 

—Dickens, David Copperfield, 
chap, xxiii 

Drama, 33, 37-39, 64, 69-72, 
92, 96, 116-18, 122, 123, 152, 
191, 218, 270, 296 

Dress, 19, 32, 60, 61, 63, 105-07 

— Dekker, Gids Horne-booke, 
chaps, i, ii; Lytton, Devercux, 
Book II, chap, ii 

Drury Lane, 230 231, 284 

— Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 
II, chap, iv; Churchill, Rich- 
ard Carvel, chap, xxxii; Dick- 
ens, David Copperfield, chap, 
xi; Goldsmith, Citizen of the 
World, Letter LXXIX 

Drury Lane Theatre, 115, 134, 
175, 176, 221 

— Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 

II, chaps, iv, xi; Orange 
Girl, Book I, chap, v; Church- 
ill, Richard Carvel, chap, xxxvi; 
Fielding, Jonathan Wild, Book 

III, chap, xi; Thackeray, 
Virginians, Vol. II, chaps, xii, 
xxxii 

Dryden, John, 1, 93-97, 133, 135; 

works, 94, 95, 96, in, 118, 

119, 122 
Duke's Theatre, 115 
— Thackeray, Henry Esmond, 

Book I, chap, xiv 

East India House, 210, 211, 

256; illustration, 212 
Egan, Pierce, Life in London, 

219-22, 247; illustrations, 220 
Elections, 181, 182, 183 n. 
— Goldsmith, Citizen of the 

World, Letter XCIII 
Eliot, George, 249 n., 250 n., 

267, 268, 269 



Evelyn, John, 97, 101, 102, 105, 
119; Diary, 91, 94, 101, 104, 
106, 107, 114, 121 

Exchange, Royal, 292 

Farquhar, George, Writings of, 

117, 152 
Fiction, 33, 64, 92, 122, 152, 191, 

218, 248, 270, 296 
Fielding, "Beau," Appendix 
— Lytton, Devercux, Book II, 

chap, i 
Fielding, Henry, 177; writings, 

152, i59, I9 1 
Fire of 1666, 88-90, 93, 96, 116, 

119, 180, 206, 277; illustra- 
tions, 88, 283 
— Ainsworth, Old St. Paul's, 

Book VI, chaps, ii, iii 
Fire Monument, 185 
Fires, 4, 8, 10 
Fleet Bridge, Appendix 
— Ainsworth, Constable of the 

Tower, Book II, chap, v; 

Besant and Rice, Chaplain of 

the Fleet, Part I, chap, iv, vi; 

Part II, chap, xxi 
Fleet Gate, Appendix 
— Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 

II, chap, xxii 
Fleet Market, 188 
— Besant and Rice, Chaplain 

of the Fleet, Part I, chaps, iv, 

v, x, xi, xii; Part II, chap. 

xxii; Besant, Dorothy Forster, 

Vol. II, chap, xxii; No 

Other Way, chap, xxiv 
Fleet Prison, 181, 243 
— Ainsworth, Constable of the 

Tower, Book II, chap, v; 

Besant and Rice, Chaplain of 

the Fleet, Part I, chaps, vi, vii; 

Part II, chaps, ix, xiv; 

Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 

II, chap, xxii; Brooke, Fool 



INDEX 



337 



of Quality, chap, xv; Thacker- 
ay, Barry Lyndon, chap, xix; 
Pendennis, chap, xxxi 
Fleet Street, 6, 51, 54, 82, 100, 
134, 153, 188, 193, 194, 202, 
289 
■ — Besant and Rice, Chaplain 
of the Fleet, Part I, chap, xxi; 
Besant, All Sorts and Condi- 
tio)! s of Men, chap, xvii; St. 
Kalherine's by the Tower, Part 
II, chap, ii; Brooke, Fool of 
Quality, chap, vii; Dickens, 
David Copper field, chap, xi; 
Tale of Two Cities, Book II, 
chap, vi; Scott, Fortunes of 
Nigel, Book I, chap, i; Book 
II, chap, vi; Smith, Bramble- 
tye House, Vol. Ill, chap, vii; 
Thackeray, Virginians, Vol. 
II, chap, i 
Food and drink, 13, 76, 108, 109, 

223, 238 
Forster, John, 204, 238, 239, 247 
Fortune Theater, 39, 40, 41 
— Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, Book 

I, chap, xii 
Fox, Charles James, 164, 167 
Franklin, Benjamin, 103, 179 
Friday Street, 10, 280 

Galsworthy, John, 251, 253, 254, 

296 
Gambling, 48, 102, 144-46, 163, 

164 
Gardens, 172, 173, 174. See also 

Ranelagh, Vauxhall, et al 
Garrick, David, 159, 175, 176, 

177, 178, 190, 191, 230 
— Fielding, Tom Jones (a Hamlet 

performance), Vol. II, Book 

XVI, chap, v 
Gates of London, 5, 34, 67, 88, 

273; illustration, 5. See also 



Aldersgate, Aldgate, Bishops- 
gate, Cripplegate, Ludgate, 
Moorgate, Newgate 

Gay, John, 127, 136, 146; 
poems, 112, 128, 129, 141-43, 
146, 151, 152 

Gerrard Street, 100, 120 

Gibbon, Edward, 154, 164, 178 

Globe Theater (rebuilt from the 
old theatre) (Bankside), illus- 
tration, 40 

Government offices, 255, 256 

Goldsmith, Oliver, 1, 24, 177; 
works, 24, 140, 159, 170, 190, 
191 

Gray's Inn, 121, 188, 225 

—Besant and Rice, Chaplain 
of the Fleet, Part I, chap, vi; 
Dickens, David Copperfield, 
chap, lix; Thackeray, Barry 
Lyndon, chap, xix; Henry 
Esmond, Book I, chap, xiv 

Great Queen Street, 231, 284 

Green Park, 254, 286 

■ — -Besant, No Other Way, chap, 
vii 

Grub Street (Milton St.), 139- 
41, 151, 185, 228 

— Burney, Cecilia, chap, ix; 
Smollett, Humphrey Clinker, 
Letter of June 10 

Guildhall, 108, 276, 277 

Hamlin's Coffee House, 134 
Hampstead Heath, 193, 237 
Hampton Court, Appendix 
— Smith, Brambletyc House, Vol. 

I, chap, vi; Vol. II, chap, v 
Harley Street, 232 
Harrison, Description of Eng- 
land, 50, 56, 58, 61, 63 
Haymarket, Appendix 
— Burney, Cecilia, chap, xviii; 



338 



LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 



Doyle, Rodney Stone, chap. 

ix; Fielding, Tom Jones, Vol. 

II, Book XIII, chap, ii 
Haymarkel Theatre, 134. 
— Fielding, Amelia, Vol. II, 

Book X, chap, ii 
Highgate, Appendix 
— Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard, 

Ep. II, chap, xi 
Hogarth, William, 157, 158, 177, 

183, 184, 190; engravings, 

184-86, 190, 204, 227, 228; 

illustrations, 144, 184 
Holborn, 67, 100, 183, 188, 264, 

281, 284 
■ — Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard, 

Ep. II, chap, xi; Besant, 

Dorolhy Forster, Vol. II, chap. 

xxii, Fielding, Tom Jones, Vol. 

II, Book XIII, chap, ii 
Holland House, 197-99, -°4'> 

illustration, 197 
— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 

chaps, xxiii, xxxix 
Holland, Lady, 197, 199 
Horse Guards Parade, 255 
Houses, Exteriors, n, 12, 6o> 

120, 153, 232, 
Houses, Interiors, 59, 103, 244 
— Thackeray, Pendennis, chap. 

xxxvii 
Howells, W. D., ioSn., 2S7, 296 
Hugo, Victor, 152 
Hume, David, 164 
Hunt, Leigh, 204, 207-9, 213-14, 

217, 240; writings, 207-9, 265 
Hutchings, W. W., vii 
Hutton, Lawrence, vii 
Hyatt, Alfred, vii, 16 
Hyde Park, 92, 100, 121, 189, 

194, 196, 233, 264, 285-88 
— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 

chap, xxvii; Fielding, Amelia, 

Vol. 1, Book I, chap, v 



Inner Temple, Gate House, 153 

Inns, 12, 13, 40, 45, 46 

Inns of Court, 30, 71, 235. Sec 

also Lincoln's Inn, Staple Inn, 

and The Temple 
Irving, Washington, 196, 197 
Islington (Spa), 173, 234 
— Brooke, Fool of Quality, chap. 

ix 

Jack Straw, 18; his "Castle," 

i93, 237 
James, G. P. R., Novels of, 33, 

64 
James, Henry, 270 
Jefferies, Richard, 268, 269 
Johnson, Samuel, 147, 154, 158, 

167, 172, 175, 176, 178, 1S6-89; 

writings, 186, 190 
Johnson, BosweWs Biography, 

154, 174, 189, 190 
Jonson, Comedies of, 38 n., 

49, 64, 69, 114, 221, 236 

Kensington, 234 

— Thackeray, Virginians, Vol. 

II, chap, viii 
Kensington Gardens, 152, 198, 

286 
King's Bench Prison, 181 
— Besant, No Other Way, chaps. 

ii, ix, xxiv; Orange Girl, 

Book I, chap, x 
King Street, 

— Besant, No Other Way, chap, i 
Kingsley, Charles, 249 n., 261, 

268, 270 
Kingsway, 284 
Kit-cat Club, Appendix 
— Lytton, Devereux, Book II, 

chap, vi 

Lamb, Charles, 194, 195, 202-7, 
209-15, 217; writings, 146 n., 
193, 202, 203, 209, 210, 218 



INDEX 



339 



Lamb Court, Inner Temple, 243 

Langland, 15, 16, 17 

Laud, Archbishop, 73 

Law and lawyers, 30, 31. See 
also Bow Street Police Court, 
Chancery, Doctor's Commons, 
Inns of Court, Trials at Law 

Lincoln's Inn, 70, 71 

— Dickens, Bleak House, chaps, 
i, xxxix 

Lincoln's Inn Fields, 204, 235, 
238, 284 

— Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 

II, chaps, xii, xxii; Dickens, 
Bleak House, chap, ix 

Literary Club, 178, 189 

Little Britain, Appendix 

— Dickens, Great Expectations, 
chap, xx 

Locke, W. J., 290, 296 

London Bridge, 6-8, 12, 82, 274, 
285, 295; illustrations, Frontis- 
piece, 32, 56, 88, 383 

— Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard, 
Ep. I, chap, vii; Tower of 
London, Book I, chap, i; 
Book II, chap, xxix; Churchill, 
Richard Carvel, chap, xxx; 
James, Darnley, chap, xiv; 
Smith, Brambletye House, Vol. 

III, chap, vi 

London, City of, 4, 100, 113, 121 
194, 202, 216, 229, 263, 264 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book I, chap, ii; Tower 
of London, Book I, chap, i; 
Book II, chap, i; Old St. 
Paul's, Book II, chap, vi; 
Besant and Rice, Chaplain of 
the Fleet, Part I, chaps, iv, viii; 
Besant, All Sorts and Condi- 
tions of Men, chap, xxxvi; 
Brooke, Fool of Quality, chap. 
xvii; Doyle, Rodney Stone, 
chaps, viii, ix; James, Agin- 



couii, chap, vii; Smith, Bram- 
bletye House, Vol. Ill, chaps, 
ii, vi; Thackeray, Virginians, 
Vol. I, chap, i, Vol. II, chap, 
xxi; Wordsworth, "Sonnet 
Written on Westminster 
Bridge" 

London University, 262 

London Wall, 5, 120, 273; illus- 
tration, 273 

London Wall (Street), 273 

Long Acre, 231, 2X4 

— Besant, No Other Way, chap, 
ix; Smollett, Humphrey Clink- 
er, Letter of June 10 

Lowell, James Russell, 20 

Lucas, E. V., 217, 296 

Ludgate, 5, 51; illustration, 57 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book II, chap, vi; 
Tower of London, Book I, chap, 
ix; Besant and Rice, Chap- 
lain of the Fleet, Part, I, chap. 
iv 

Ludgate Hill, 8, 142, 193 

■ — Besant and Rice, Chaplain 
of the Fleet, Part I, chap, iv; 
Besant, Orange Girl, Book I, 
chap, v; Dickens, Little Dorrit, 
Book I, chap, iii 

Lytton, Bulwer, Novels of, ^$, 
152 

Macaronis, 166, 167 

Macaulay, Essays of, 78, 91, 
121, 151, 190, 217 

Mall, The, 252, 255 

— Scott, Peveril of the Peak, 
Book II, chap, xvii; Smith, 
Brambletye House, Vol. II, 
chap, v; Thackeray, Barry 
Lyndon, chap, xviii 

Mansion House, 292 

Maps, opposite 32, SS, 152, 283 



340 



LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 



Marble Arch, 287, 288 
Marshalsea, 181, 225, 231 
—Dickens, Little Dorrit, Book I, 

chap. vi. viii, ix 
Marylebone Gardens, 172 
— Besant, No Other Way, chap. 
ix; Burney, Evelina, Letter 
LII; Thackeray, Virginians, 
Vol. I, chap, xxxvi 
Masques, 49, 50, 69, 70, 71, 72, 

108 
Medicine, 31, 104, 105 
Melville, H. and L., vii 
Meredith, George, 236, 267 
Middleton, Plays of, 116 
Milton, John, 1, 65-70, 78, 82, 
84, 85, 88, 280; works, 24, 68, 
69, 78, 80, 84, 85, 88, 91, 92 
Mohocks, 112, 220 
— Ainsworth, Jack Shcppard, 
Ep. II, chap, xi; Lytton, 
Devcreux, Book II, chaps, 
vii, xi 
Monasteries, 206, 245; dissolu- 
tion of, 36, 54 
Montagu, Lady Mary Wortley, 

145, 147, 149, 173 
Moore, Thomas, 196, 197 
Moorgate, 5, 34, 67, 88, 273 

National Gallery, 252, 261 
Nelson Monument, 252, 254; 

illustration, 252 
Newgate, 5, 67, 183, 227 
Newgate Prison, 180, 181 
— Ainsworth, Jack Shcppard, 
Ep. Ill, chap, ix (entire); 
Besant and Rice, Chaplain of 
the Fleet, Part I, chap, viii; 
Besant, Dorothy Forster, chaps, 
xii, xvi, xxi, xxii; No Other 
Way, chap, iii; Orange Girl, 
Book II, chap, ix; St. Kathcr- 



ine's by the Tower, Part II, 
chaps, xiii, xiv, xv, xviii, xix, 
xxiii, xxx ; Brooke, Fool of 
Quality, chap, vii; Dickens, 
Great Expectations, chaps, xx, 
xxxii; Fielding, Amelia, Vol. 
II, Book XII, chap, v; Jona- 
than Wild, Book III, chap, iv; 
Book IV, chap, ii, iii; Scott, 
Pevcril of the Peak, Book II, 
chaps, xvi-xviii; Thackeray, 
Henry Esmond, Book II, chaps, 
i, ii 

Newgate Street, 206 

— Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 

II, chaps, xv, xxi 
Newspapers, 133, 137-39, 258 

Old Bailey, 230 

— Ainsworth, Jack Shcppard, 
Ep. II, chap, xvi; Besant, 
Orange Girl, Book I, chap, v; 
Book II, chap, xii; St. Kathcr- 
ine's by the Tower, Part II, 
chap, xvii; Brooke, Fool of 
Quality, chap, viii; Dickens, 
Tale of Two Cities, Book II, 
chap, i; Fielding, Tom Jones, 
Vol. II, Book XVIII, chap, v; 
Jonathan Wild, Book II, 
chap, v 

Ordinary, Appendix 

— Dekker, Guls Horn-booke, 
chap, v; Scott, Fortunes of 
Nigel, Book I, chaps, xi, xii. 

Oxford Road, Appendix 

— Ainsworth, Jack Shcppard, Ep. 

III, chap, i 

Paddington, 234 
Pageants, 50, 107, 108 
— James, Darnley, chap, xx 
Pall Mall, 143, 242, 252, 253, 254 
— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 
chaps, xxiv, xxvi; Sarah Field- 
ing, David Simple, Vol. I, 



INDEX 



341 



Book II, chaps, i-iii; Thack- 
eray, Virginians, Vol. II, 
chap, xii 

Pantheon, Appendix 
— Burney, Cecilia, chap, viii; 
Evelina, Letter XXIII 

Parks, 286-88. See also Green, 
Hyde, St. James's, et al. 

Parliament, 73, 77, 100, 225, 
227, 257, 258, 261, 276; illus- 
trations, 224, 258 

Parliament, Houses of, 2, 252' 
258, 275, 293 

Paston, George, 151, 156, 190 

Paternoster Row, 279 

— Thackeray, Pendennis, chap. 
xxxi 

Patronage of literature, 94, 125, 
188, 281 

Pearson, Norman, Works of, 112, 
190 

Pepys, Samuel, 98, 101, 105, 167; 
Diary, 81, 87, 91, 101, 105, 106, 
109, 122 

Phillips, Ambrose, 136 

Piccadilly, 196, 260, 268 

— Besant, All Sorts and Condi- 
tions of Men, chap, xvii; Field- 
ing, Tom Jones, Vol. II, Book 
XVI, chap, v 

Piers Plowman, Vision of, 17, 
20, 21, 25-27, 29, 30 

Pillory, 9, 73, 142, 224 

— Besant, Orange Girl, Book II, 
chap, xx 

Plague of 1665-66, 85-88, 93, 
104, 116 

— Ainsworth, Old St. Paul's, 
Book II, chaps, i, ii, ix; Book 
III, chap, v; Book IV, chap, i 

Plagues, 26 

Playhouse. See Theater 

Police of London, 182, 2S7 



Pool, The, 59, 285, 295 

■ — -Besant, St. Kallirrinc's by the 

Tower, Part I, chap, vi 
Pope, Alexander, 125, 135, 146, 

147, 149, I5 1 , 152, 157, 158, 
162; poems, 126, 136, 139, 147 

Population, 2, 4, 34, 99, 121, 153, 

172, 192 
Prisons, 180, 213, 214, 224. See 

also Bridewell, Fleet, King's 

Bench, Marshalsea, Newgate, 

el al 
Prynne, William, 70, 71, 72, 92, 

117 
Pudding Lane, 88 
Pugilism, 201, 221 
Puppet Show, Appendix 
— Lytton, Devereux, Book II, 

chap. i 
Puritanism, 2, 38, 69-74, 79, 80, 

90, 1 1 2-14 

Queen's House, 326 
Queen Victoria Street, 282 

Ranelagh, 167, 170, 216; illus- 
tration, 168 

—Burney, Evelina, Letter XII; 
Fielding, Amelia, Vol. II, 
Book VII, chap, vii; Smol- 
lett, Humphrey Clinker, Let- 
ters of May 22 and 31 ; Thack- 
eray, Barry Lyndon, chaps, 
xii, xviii; Virginians, Vol. II, 
chap, v 

Reade, Charles, 249, 261, 270 

Red Lion Square, 284 

Regent's Park, 233 

Regent Street, 233, 268, 284; 
illustration, 233 

Renaissance, 1, 36 

Restoration, The, 80-83, 93 _ q6i 
114, 122 



342 



LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 



Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 159, 164, 

178, 184 
Richardson, Novels of, 150, 101. 

iQ3 
Riots, 179-83, 212-13, 260 
— Besant, Dorothy Forstcr, Vol. 

II, chap, xiii; Kingsley, Alton 

Locke, chap, xxviii 
Rogers, Samuel, House of, 196- 

98, 204, 240 
Rossetti, D. G. and W. M., 266, 

267 
Royal Exchange, 292 
— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 

chap, xxiii; Sarah Fielding, 

David Simple, Vol. I, Book I, 

chap, iv 

Sadler's Wells, 216 
— Smollett, Humphrey Clinker, 
Letter of June 3 

Saltero, Don. See Cheyne Walk 
— Lytton, Devereux, Book II, 
chap, vi; Thackeray, Vir- 
ginians, Vol. I, chap, xxxvi; 
Vol. II, chap. xxii. 

Sanctuary, 52; illustration, 22S. 

See also Alsatia 
—Besant, Orange Girl, Book I, 

chap, ii 

Sandwich, Earl of, 164, 165, 177. 

Satire, ^s> °3i 91, 92, 118, 119, 
122, 151, 152, 190, 218, 247, 
270 

Scotch Coffee Houses, 134 

Scott, Novels of, 47, 50, 53, 55, 
57, 64, 77 n., 81 n., 92, 135 m 

Scowrers, 112, 220 

Shadwell, Thomas, Plays of, 99, 
112, 123, 140 

Shakespeare, Plays of, 33, 37, 
38 n., 42, 43 n., 50 n., 61, 69, 
116, 176 



Shaw, G. Bernard, 296 

Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 200, 218 

Sheridan, R. B., Plays of, 191 

Shops, 9, n, 28, 51, 52 

Signs, 143, 144 

Smith, Horace, 92 

Smith, James, 272 

Smithfield, 5, 1S3, 230, 246 

— Brooke, Fool of Quality, chap, 
xvii; Dickens, Great Expecta- 
tions, chap, xx ; Dickens, Little 
Dorrit, Book I, chap, xiii; 
Bulwer Lytton, Last of the 
Barons, Book IV, chap, vii 

Smollett, Novels of, 159, 171, 
191 

Snow Hill, 112 

— Besant, Dorothy Forstcr, Vol. 
II, chap, xxii; Dickens, Nich- 
olas Nickleby, chap, xiv 

Somerset House, 294 

— Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 
II, chap, xi; Scott, Peveril of 
the Peak, Book II, chap, xiii 

South Sea "Bubble," 144-46, 
151; illustration, 144 

South Sea House, 145, 210, 256 

Southwark, 6, 34, 153, 156, 185 

Spectator, The, 118, 127, 128-30, 
133, 134, 137, 138, 148, 149- 
166, 205, 236 

Spenser, "Prothalamion," 54, 
58 n. 

Spring Garden, Appendix 

— Smith, Brambletye House, Vol. 
I, chap, vii; Vol. Ill, chap, vi 

Stage. Sec Drama; Theater 

Staple Inn, 120, 188; illustration, 
156 

St. Alphage's Church, 273 

St. Bride's Churchyard, 67; 
illustration, 120 



INDEX 



343 



St. Clement's Church, n n. 
— Brooke, Fool of Quality, chap, 
xvii 

St. Giles Cripplegate, 273; illus- 
tration, 273 

— Besant and Rice, Chaplain of 
the Fleet, Part I, chap, viii 

St. James's Coffee House, 134 
— Brooke, Fool of Qualify, chap, 
xvii 

St. James's Park, 92, 196, 233, 
246, 252, 286 

— Besant and Rice. Chaplain of 
the Fleet, Part I, chap, viii; 
Besant, No Other Way, chaps, 
vi, ix; Fielding, Amelia, Vol. I, 
Book IV, chap, vii; Book V, 
chap, ix; Scott, Fortunes of 
Nigel, Book I, chap, xv; 
Smith, Bramblelye House, Vol. 
IT, chap, iii; Vol. Ill, chap, vi 

St. James's Street, 196 

— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 
chaps, xxvi, xl; Sarah Field- 
ing, David Simple, Vol. II, 
Book III, chap, vi 

St. Martins in the Fields, 230, 
252 

St. Mary Overies, 277 

St. Paul's Cathedral, The New, 
120, 192, 193, 246, 264, 278, 
279, 294; illustration, 249 

— Besant and Rice, Chaplain of 
the Fleet, Part I, chap, viii; 
Besant, Orange Girl, Book I, 
chap, v; Dickens, Little Dorrit, 
chaps, iii, xiii; Goldsmith, 
Citizen of the World, Letter 
XLI 

St. Paul's Cathedral, The Old, 
5, 8; 24, 49, 50, 51, 67, 89, 91, 
92; illustrations, 8, 49, 57 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book II, chap, v; 



Tower of London, Book I, 
chap, i; Old St. Paul's Passim; 
Smith, Bramblelye House, Vol. 
Ill, chaps, vi, vii 

St. Paul's Cross, 49; illustra- 
tion, 49 

St. Paul's Walk, 49, 50, 63 

— Ainsworth, Old St. Paul's, 
Book II, chap, vii; Dekker, 
Guls Home-booke, chap, iv 

Steele, 128, 136, 149, 150, 151, 
245. See also u The Spectator" 

Stow, John, 21 

Strafford, Wentworth, Earl of, 
73, 74-76, 275; illustration, 74 

— Browning, "Strafford" 

Strand, The, 6, 54, 67, 82, 100, 
153- i93> J 94, 202, 231, 284 

— Besant and Rice, Chaplain of 
the Fleet, Part I, chap, viii; 
Besant, Dorothy Forsler, Vol. 
II, chap, xi; Brooke, Fool of 
Quality, chap, xvii; Churchill, 
Richard Carvel, chap, xxiii; 
Bulwer Lytton, Last of the 
Barons, Book II, chap, i; 
Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, Book 
I, chap, v 

Strawberry Hill, 162 

— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 
chap. xxix 

Street cries, n, 30, 143, 265 

Streets, The, 8, 10, 57, 103, 141- 
44, 194, 215, 227, 268, 269, 
279-81 

— Dekker, Guls Hom-booke, 
chap, viii; Smith, Bramblelye 
House, Vol. Ill, chap, ii; 
Gay, Trivia, or the Art of 
Walking the Streets of London 

Sublime Society of Beefsteaks, 
177 

Swift, Jonathan, 18, 126, 138, 
149, 184; Works, 154 n., 151 



344 



LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 



Tabard Inn, 12 

Tate Galleries, 262 

Taverns, 12, 45-48 

— Dekker, Guls Horn-booke, 
chap, vii; Thackeray, Henry 
Esmond, Book I, chaps, x, xiv; 
Pendcnnis, chap, xxx 

Temple, The, 26,54, 72, 115, 120, 
121, 134, 188, 202-205, 242, 
243; illustration, 188 

— Dickens, Great Expectations, 
chap, xlvii; James, Agincourt, 
chap, xiv; Scott, Fortunes of 
Nigel, Book I, chap, xvi; 
Smith, Brambletyc House, Vol. 
Ill, chap, vii; Thackeray, 
Pendennis, chaps, xxviii, xxix, 
xlii 

Temple Bar, 54, 82, 99, 202; 
illustration, 202 

— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 
chap, xxiii; Scott, Fortunes of 
Nigel, Book I, chap, v; Smith, 
Brambletye House, Vol. Ill, 
chaps, vi, vii 

Thackeray, W. M., 240-43, 2451 
261; writings, 15, 16, 151, 1521 
190, 191, 200, 201, 202, 203, 
217, 223, 242-45, 247, 248 

Thames, The, 3, 4, 5, 6, 58, 59, 
99, 107, 156, 259, 285, 286, 
293-96 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book I, chap, ii; 
Tower of London, Book I, 
chap, i; Book II, chaps, xxvii, 
xxxii; Besant, No Other Way, 
chap, ix; St. Katherinc's by the 
Tower, Part II, chap, xii; 
Churchill, Richard Carvel, chap, 
xxx; Dickens, Great Expecta- 
tions, chap, liv; Sarah Field- 
ing, David Simple, Vol. II, 
Book IV, chap, iii; Scott, 
Kenilworth, chaps, xv, xvii; 
Fortunes of Nigel, Book I, 



chap, ix; Smith, Brambletyc 
House, Vol. Ill, chap, vi; 
Smollett, Humphrey Clinker, 
Letter of May 31; Thackeray, 
Henry Esmond, Book I, chap, 
iii; Book II, chap, iii 

Thames Street, 142, 228 

— Dickens, Nicholas Nicklcby, 
chap, xi 

Theater, The, 2, 39-45, 48, 114- 
16, 174-76 

— Dekker, Guls Horn-booke, 
chap, vi; Goldsmith, Citizen 
of the World, Letter XXI 

Theaters (Bear Garden, Curtain, 
Fortune, Globe, The Rose, The 
Theater, The Globe), 39-41; 
illustration, 40; (Duke's 
Goodman's Fields, Haymarket 
Opera House), 116; Covent 
Garden, 116, 177; Drury 
Lane (first Kings), 115, 175, 
176, 221 

Tower of London, 5,9,27,57,120, 
153- 273-75; illustration, 74 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book I, chap, v; 
Tower of London, passim; 
Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 
II, chaps, xv, xx; St. Kath- 
erine's by the Tower, Part II, 
chap, vii; Brooke, The Fool 
of Quality, chap, xvii; Lytton, 
The Last of the Barons, Book 

II, chaps, ii, iii; Book III, 
chap, v; Scott, Fortunes of 
Nigel, Book II, chaps, xii, xiii; 
Peveril of the Peak, passim, 
Book III, chap, i; Smith, 
Brambletye House, Vol. Ill, 
chap, ix 

Tower Hill, Appendix 
— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book I, chap, ii; Book 

III, chap, ix; Book IV, chap, 
vi; Besant, Dorothy Forster, 



INDEX 



345 



Vol. II, chap, xx ; St. Kath- 
erine's by the Tower, Part II, 
chap, vii 

Trafalgar Square, 194, 202, 230, 
252, 261; illustration, 252 

Trials at law, 74-76, 182 

Trollope, Anthony, 249 n., 270 

Tube, The, 280 

Tyburn, 185, 224, 243, 287 

— Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard, 
Ep. Ill, chap, xxxii; Fielding, 
Jonathan Wild, Book IV, 
chap, xiv 

Tyburn, Procession to, 183; 
illustration, 184 

— Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard, 
Ep. Ill, chap, xxxii; Burney, 
Cecilia, chap, ix 

Vanbrugh, Sir John, Writings 
of, 117, 152 

Vauxhall, 167-70, 216, 227, 285; 
illustration, 168 

— Besant, No Other Way, chap, 
ix; St. Katherine's by the 
Tower, Part II, chap, xxvii; 
Burney, Cecilia, chap, vi; 
Evelina, Letter XLVI; Church- 
ill, Richard Carvel, chap, xl; 
Fielding, Amelia, Vol. II, 
Book IX, chap, ix; Gold- 
smith, Citizen of the World, 
Letter LXXI; Smollett, 
Humphrey Clinker, Letters of 
May 22 and 31; Thackeray, 
Pendennis, chap, xlvi; Vir- 
ginians, Vol. I, chap, xl 

Victoria Embankment, 157, 259, 
294 

• — Dickens, David Copperfield, 
chap, xlvii 

"Victorian," 250, 251 

Violence, 45, 51, 78, 85, 109-12, 
136, 172, 174, 175, 179-83, 
201-2, 220-22 



Wallace Collection, The, 262 

Walpole, Horace, 155, 157, 162, 
163, 164, 169, 170, 184, 190 

Ward, Mrs. Humphrey, 268, 270 

War Office, 255 

Wells, H. G., 251, 290, 296 

West End, 189, 194, 243 

— Doyle, Rodney Stone, chap, ix 

Westminster, 1, 6, 9, 34, 57, 67, 
121, 293 

Westminster Abbey, 6, 34, 83, 
193, 252, 264, 277 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book II, chap, vi; 
Besant and Rice, Chaplain 
of the Fleet, Part I, chap, viii; 
Besant, Dorothy Forster, Vol. 
II, chap, xi; Goldsmith, 
Citizen of the World, Letter 
XIII; James, Agincourt, chap. 
xi 

Westminster Bridge, Appendix 

— Doyle, Rodney Stone, chap, 
xiv; Wordsworth, "Lines 
Written on Westminster 
Bridge" 

Westminster (Parliament Build- 
ing) Hall, 75, 76, 77, 275; il- 
lustrations, 96, 276 

— Ainsworth, Constable of the 
Tower, Book II, chap, vii; 
Tower of London, Book II, 
chap, v; Besant, Dorothy 
Forster, Vol. II, chap, xxiii; 
Goldsmith, Citizen of the 
World, Letter XC VIII; Scott, 
Peveril of the Peak, Book III, 
chap, vi; Smith, Brambletyc 
House, Vol. Ill, chap, vii 

Wheatley, H. B., vii 

Whitechapel, 121 

— Besant, All Sorts and Condi- 
tions of Men, chaps, iv, vii, 
xviii; St. Katherine's by the 
Tower, Part II, chap, xi 



546 



LONDON IN ENGLISH LITERATURE 



Whitefriars, 53 

— Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, Book 

I, chaps, xvi, xvii 
Whitehall, 6, 55, 56, 72, 82, 99, 

102, 252, 255-57 
— Churchill, Richard Carvel, 
chap, xxvii; James, Darnley, 
chap, xxiii; Scott, Fortunes 
of Nigel, Book I, chap, vi; 
Peveril of the Peak, Book II, 
chap, xiii; Smith, Bramblclyc 
House, Vol. I, chap, vii; Vol. 

II, chaps, v, vii 
Whitehall Banquet House, 77, 

82, 255; illustration, 78 
White's Club, 163, 176 
White's Coffee House, 134 
— Thackeray, Barry Lyndon, 

chap, xvi; Virginians, Vol. I, 



chaps, xl, xlvi; Vol. II, chap, 
xii 

Whitten, Wilfred, vii 
Whittington, Sir Richard, 29 
Will's Coffee House, 112, 134, 

135 
— Lytton, Devcreux, Book II, 

chap, iii; Scott, Pirate, chap. 

xii 
Woman, Place of, 147-50, 152, 

165, 166 
Wood Street, 280 
Wordsworth, William, 205, 215; 

poems, 215, 216, 218 
Wren, Sir Christopher, 90, 119, 

120, 155, 266, 277, 294; illus- 
trations, 120 
Wycherley, William, 117, 123 



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